


Mahogany

by muffinmistress



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muffinmistress/pseuds/muffinmistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard and squaddies are students at the elite Galactic Training Academy. (Think Starfleet meets Hogwarts. In space.) Reapers have been dead for hundreds of years, but there are still plenty of baddies out in the galaxy. Shepard-in-training rises to the occasion, with the aid of her squad and a certain snarky flight student. Currently Rated M for language and mature situations. (E in later chapters.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Joker slouched in the corner seat in the last row of the lecture hall, with his cap strategically placed to shield his face from the overpowering brightness of the room. He liked to think that it also shielded him from the gazes of the other students, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.

It was bright in the room, almost uncomfortably bright. Joker suspected that it was meant to discourage students from falling asleep during the less, ah, captivating lectures. (Advanced Techniques in Ship Navigation was one such lecture, by most student accounts.)

He was vaguely aware of Professor Jassal's lecture on maximizing fuel during intra-system space travel, but her voice was faded and distant, as though Joker were hearing her voice from underwater.

He didn't think he'd be missing out on much, though. He'd finished the textbook a few months ago, and even gotten into a snippy e-mail debate about slingshot maneuvers with one of the authors. Joker grinned at the memory, then looked back down at his datapad at the final problem in his problem set.

**_The pilot of an Alliance frigate must traverse the asteroid belt in the Asgard star system in order to access the system's mass relay. Fuel stores at 83%. Calculate the maximum distance the pilot can travel on current fuel stores. Interpret the results and answer the following questions._ **

**_a. What is the minimum percentage of maximum thrust needed to ensure the ship will clear the mass relay after traversing the asteroid belt?_ **

**_b. What courses of action can the pilot take to maximize fuel efficiency?_ **

**_c. Calculate the maximum velocity at which the pilot can traverse the system when thrusters are at 60% capacity._ **

**_d. At the velocity calculated in C , approximate the number of asteroid collisions before critical failure of shields. Assume standard shield strength. (The median weight and size for asteroids in the Asgard system can be found in Appendix G.)_ **

Joker was slightly annoyed by the question. It wasn't a question about flying, it was a question about math. No pilot would just "find himself" in the middle of an asteroid belt. And even if Joker had found himself in that (admittedly shitty) position, he'd have made it through just fine. He certainly wouldn't have stopped to calculate maximum velocity or minimum thrust or fuel efficiency. He wouldn't have needed to. He could just _feel_ it.

Hell, in FlightSim last night, he'd made it through an asteroid field with one failed thruster, shields at 20% capacity, and a leaking fuel tank, all while being chased by a persistent geth fighter.

Granted, he'd asked the FlightSim VI for a difficult one.

He shook off the memories of FlightSim and tried to refocus. He wasn't in FlightSim now. He was in class.

He was in class, and he needed to get up out of his chair soon. His legs hurt from being locked in one position. He was supposed to stretch his legs for two minutes every hour, but the cramped quarters in the lecture hall were anything but conducive to student comfort.

The tension in his legs was making him crabby. He was stiff. He wanted to swim. He wanted to run a FlightSim.

He got even crankier when he remembered that he still had that ridiculous Lit class to attend.

After that business a few years back, the Council had decided to stress diplomacy and inclusivity in the training regimen at the Galactic Training Academy. To fulfill that end, the GTA had recently "broadened its educational horizons" to be more inclusive of the non-Council races of the galaxy.

That's what they said in the press conferences, anyway. In practice, this "broadening of horizons" consisted of a single new mandatory humanities course - the aforementioned Galactic Literature and Poetry - and species-integrated dormitories and cafeterias.

 _Quit drifting off_ , Joker told himself. He rolled the stiffness out of his neck and peered back at the datapad. He did some quick calculations and inputted the answers to the last problem in the problem set. He quickly rechecked his work, and then submitted it to Professor Jassal via e-mail.

He had made it into a kind of game, seeing whether or not he could finish a problem set in the same period the professor assigned it. Usually he won. He could tell that Professor Jassal had seen that he'd completed the set. She shot Joker a knowing smirk, and dismissed the class for the day.

Joker heard the characteristic rustling of students packing up their things, and knew that he was almost free.

He waited patiently for the students to file out the front door before moving to stand up. He needed to move, but he preferred to walk without an audience. His knees creaked ominously as he stood. He stretched his legs carefully and gathered his things. He had just begun to slowly traverse the stairway down to the exit when –

"Ah. Mr. Moreau. A moment."

Professor Jassal's voice rang clear from the front of the lecture hall, and Joker began to make his way down to her desk at the front.

The professor was an elderly woman, in her 60s or 70s. She had long grey hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck, and the faint wrinkles around her eyes crinkled as she smiled at him. "Hello, Mr. Moreau. How are you?"

"Tired, ma'am. I just finished this monster problem set."

She chuckled. "Well, that's not why I called you down here. I have a book here I think you'd like. Turian and human collaborative ship design."

"Thank you," said Joker, with genuine gratitude. He accepted the transfer onto his datapad, and flicked through a couple of pages.

Professor Jassal watched his face. She noticed how his brow crinkled and his eyes raced over the screen. "Mr. Moreau," she began. "How many hours have you clocked on the station's Flight Simulation program?"

Joker looked up and grinned. "9,984."

She nodded thoughtfully, as if Joker had answered a very different question. There was a pause for a few awkward seconds.

"Well, let me know what you think of the book."

"Will do, ma'am."

"Dismissed."

Joker exited the room as quickly as his legs would allow, hoping he'd make it to that stupid lit class on time.

Professor Jassal watched him leave. He slammed the door shut, and she heard his muttered curses from the other side of the door. Her laugh reverberated in the empty lecture hall. "That boy," she said, shaking her head.

She walked over to her lectern, packed up her notes, and exited the room, turning out the lights as she went.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Tali! Can you make it?"

"I can't get through, Shepard! I'm not close enough," Tali replied.

Shepard peeked around the edge of the wall, only to be rewarded with a burst of rapid gunshot fire from a geth.

"Dammit. They've gotten the high ground."

This was an exceptionally frustrating CombatSim. The AI had placed Shepard and her team (Garrus and Tali) in the middle of the desert, with the building they were trying to infiltrate a good 400 meters away. The geth had snipers trained on them in a matter of seconds, and Shepard and her team had had to sprint for cover.

Kaidan and his team (Ashley and Wrex) hadn't had the easiest time of it, either. They'd been placed directly next to the compound they were trying to infiltrate, and near good cover, but they had to take down two Geth Armatures before they could enter the building. By that time, Garrus had taken out the snipers, and he, Shepard, and Tali had sprinted to the door of the compound, right on the heels of Kaidan and his team.

Both teams had the same mission: Infiltrate the compound and retrieve data from a terminal on the second floor. Shepard was looking for a way to get Tali up into the stairwell, but it was blocked by Kaidan, Ashley and Wrex (and about a dozen geth).

Garrus popped up and got in two shots against a geth unit before it overloaded his shields and another trained its assault rifle on him. He ducked to avoid the imminent incoming fire.

"God, how do we get past them?" he asked, exasperated.

Shepard thought for a moment. _You don't need to get past them. You don't even need to get to the second floor. You just need the data._

"Dammit! We've been doing this wrong." Shepard formulated a plan quickly. "We don't need to get past them. We just need to get Tali within distance of the data terminal."

Garrus looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Shepard, that's what we've been doing for the past- "

"No, Garrus! Not in the same room with it. Just near it. If this is a standard layout for an Alliance military base, then there's another room just under the room with the data terminal. If we can get Tali in there, she'll have a shot at a hack from underneath."

Shepard turned to Tali. "Garrus and I will create a diversion. You sneak into the room under the target and hack into the data terminal." She paused. "It'll be a remote hacking. Can you do it?"

Tali looked offended, even through the opaque glass plate covering her face. "It's me, Shepard. Of course I can do it."

Shepard grinned. "Excellent. You could be getting some fire. Can your shields take it?"

She nodded. "I've got a boost ready to go."

"Good." Shepard looked around the field for anything that would provide a big enough diversion to pull off their little scheme. When she saw it, her face lit up. "Garrus, on three, fire on the crate behind that Prime. Overload it, shoot it, kick it, I don't care, just make it explode."

"Garrus' mandibles widened slightly in surprise. "I hadn't even realized it was explosive. . . " He trailed off at the end.

"On three, Garrus! Get ready, Tali." She waited to make sure they were both in position, then cried, "One. . . two. . . three!"

Garrus popped up from behind the low cover and released a Heavy Overload on the crate behind the Geth Prime. The explosion blew the Prime off his feet and against a wall. He looked down for the count, but Shepard fired a Heavy Warp at him to be sure. Kaidan, Ashley and Wrex continued to fight their way through the geth towards the stairwell. Tali released her combat drone to give Garrus and Shepard some extra cover, and then snuck off in the opposite direction, towards the empty room.

Tali looked down at her omnitool and moved so that she was directly underneath the data terminal. The signal was steady, but low – so low that a lesser-skilled engineer wouldn't have known what to look for. Tali picked the relevant information out of the signal and pieced it together using her omni-tool.

After a few seconds of frantic typing, she pieced together the final piece of information, and successfully hacked the data terminal. "Got it!" she whispered.

As soon as the hack was complete, the CombatSim rushed to a halt. The geth faded away, and the floors shifted themselves back into the default arrangement for the CombatSim room. The sound of an engine powering down filled the room. The CombatSim VI's voice came booming through the loudspeakers. "Please do not exit the Combat Simulation room until all weapons have been fitted with the appropriate safety measures. Have a pleasant day!"

Kaidan, Ashley and Wrex looked around, confused.

"The Sim's over? How the hell could it be over? Who got the data?" Wrex asked, puzzled.

Shepard opened her mouth to answer, but then Ashley saw Tali jogging over from the area the room underneath the data terminal used to be, and narrowed her eyes. "How the hell did you –"

Garrus interrupted Ashley with a low, appreciative laugh. "Nice work on that remote hack, Tali'Zorah. That was . . . impressive."

Tali's voice had a hint of a smile in it. "I know! And Shepard had the nerve to question my abilities." She scoffed good-naturedly, and gave Shepard a light punch in the arm. "It's all right. She'll know better for next time."

Kaidan put his hands on his hips and laughed, shaking his head. "Ash and I could tell you were planning something. We just didn't know what it was."

Professor Anderson walked in the room, and the six students assembled themselves into a straight line, ready to receive Anderson's comments on their exercise.

Anderson voice boomed as he walked over towards them.

"Good work, the lot of you."

The students all relaxed imperceptibly at his words. Professor Anderson was known for being a hardass.

"Alenko, you led well. Keep the mission parameters in mind, and make calls based on fulfilling those parameters. The goal was to retrieve data, not rid the compound of geth. Good leadership, though. We'll make a decent squad leader of you yet." Kaidan smiled slightly at those words – high praise coming from Anderson.

"Good shooting, Williams. I saw you take down an Armature at close range." He nodded appreciatively.

"Wrex, you're depending too much on your regenerative abilities. Stay out of fire as much as possible, no matter how much you think you can take. " Wrex let out a low guffaw, but otherwise said nothing.

Anderson moved over to Tali and said, "That was impressive, Tali'Zorah. Your infiltrating skills are remarkable." He paused. "They teach that on the flotilla?"

"No sir," Tali replied. "That's of my own design. It's a bit too instinctive to be taught reliably."

Anderson nodded slowly. "Well done."

"Excellent sniping, Vakarian, but pay more attention to your surroundings. Missing key information like explosive crates won't be acceptable in the big leagues."

"Yes, sir," responded Garrus, and Anderson gave him a nod.

"Unconventionally done, Shepard. Good interpretation of mission parameters. You utilized your teammates well. " He paused and gave her a nod as well. "Seems you've been practicing your shooting. Your aim has improved significantly. Well done."

Anderson looked them over one last time and nodded. "Dismissed."

The six of them remained quiet and at attention until Anderson left the room. As soon as the door had clicked shut, the six students exchanged grins and congratulations.

"Wow," said Kaidan. "Either he was in a really good mood, or we just aced that CombatSim."

"That might be the best post-CombatSim critique we've ever gotten. Shit, the worst thing he had to say was about Garrus missing that crate," Ashley pointed out.

Their conversation dissolved into chatter as they stripped their armor and weapons and headed for Galactic Literature and Poetry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter** : The "stupid Lit class." I neither confirm nor deny that it will be taught by a drell with tight leather pants and a tortured soul.
> 
> **Author's Note:**  
>  As this fic is AU, I thought readers might want to know the ages of our characters:
> 
> Azri Shepard - 18, Adept.  
> Joker – 18.  
> Kaidan Alenko - 19.  
> Ashley Williams - 18.  
> Garrus Vakarian- 17.  
> Tali'Zorah nar'Rayya - 17.  
> Wrex – 126 (In my headcanon, roughly the equivalent of a human 20 year old.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Special thanks to my beta, peptoipso, and to you, for reading.**

Shepard laid her head against the wall of the classroom. Professor Krios had just finished a rather long and involved lecture on the role of poetry in hanar society and was currently fiddling with the holograph projector at the front of the lecture hall.

She was just preparing to drift off into a daydream when the image of a hanar popped up on the holograph. The image quality was poor, but that was only to be expected. The recording was, after all, a few hundred years old.

The hanar seemed to be floating in thin air. He moved slowly and fluidly, lifting two of his outer tentacles in front of his body. He pressed them together and began to speak.

This one

This one Tires

This one Walks Alone

This one Does Not Sleep

This one Forgets to Live Honorably

This one Speaks Mistruths to His Mistress

This one Repudiates the Advice of His Companions

This one Travels the Roads the Enkindlers Have Condemned 

The image of the hanar flickered briefly, and then froze in place, as if the recording had been paused. 

"The poetry of the hanar cannot be simply heard, or read. It must be . . . .experienced." Professor Krios's eyes closed, and he looked as though he were on the verge of slipping into a memory.

Joker felt his eyes rolling into the back of his head, and he let out a quiet scoff.

Krios's head snapped towards Joker, and he narrowed his eyes slightly. "Mr. Moreau. You lack appreciation for the poetry of the hanar?"

"It's not 'cause it's _hanar_. I just don't really appreciate poetry, sir."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Poetry is . . . insincere. It's all bullshit metaphors and flowery language and nobody ever just saying whatever it is they want to say."

Shepard looked over at the person speaking. He was good-looking, with a strong, square jaw and a rather large, pointy aristocratic nose. His eyes were shrouded by the hat he wore, a solid navy cap with "GTA" emblazoned across the front in white. He had thin lips, and his mouth was thin and severely set, as if he didn't laugh often. That thought made Shepard vaguely sad, but she shook the uncomfortable feeling and returned her thoughts to the discussion at hand.

Ashley's voice rang through the classroom. "Insincere? Are you kidding me? To the hanar, poetry is the most sincere of all forms of communication. This poet is telling you his name, his _soul name_. This poet is _literally_ baring his soul to you. How much more sincere can you get?"

"Ms. Williams makes a good argument, Mr. Moreau. Do you have a rebuttal?"

"But most hanar take on personas for the sake of the poem. That's the soul name of the person he's pretending to be in order to write the poem. I don't know his soul name. Actually, I don't know anything about this poet at all." Joker paused. " Hanar poetry might actually be _the most_ insincere poetry there is."

(At that, Krios's eyes flashed, as if he were taking Joker's dismissal of hanar poetry a bit too personally.)

"Yeah, but even with his persona, you learn so much about what the poet thinks, how he feels. You can almost _hear_ the self-loathing in his voice. He's - he's being as sincere as he can, especially considering how confined he is by the hanar language."

"Yeah, I'm not buying it. If he has something to say, then he should say it. Not pretend to be somebody else so that he can drop hints about how he feels." And with that, Joker slouched back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and tugged his cap even further down over his eyes.

There was an awkward silence. A cough echoed from one end of the hall, and Shepard had to fight the urge to break into a bout of nervous laughter.

"Well. This discussion has been. . . intriguing." Krios paused briefly. "Unfortunately, we've run out of time during this session.

"This class is dismissed. Please come to our next class prepared to discuss the human play, Hamlet."

_____________ 

Joker hated cafeterias.

They were large and noisy and crowded, but more than anything else, they required him to walk in front of too many people. For the past few months, he'd been bribing one of the cooks to give him food in the back of the kitchen, and then he'd make his way to an empty classroom. He liked that better anyway, since it let him eat and read in relative privacy.

He made his way to the back of the kitchens, where Chef Gardner usually set aside some small box lunch for Joker under the pretense of a pesky food allergy.

Joker peeked his head around the corner to the main kitchen. A short, dark-skinned human woman bustled around the kitchen, barking orders to the other workers. Joker didn't see Gardner anywhere. He took a deep breath, knocked on the open door and asked "Excuse me, is Gardner around?"

The woman stopped in the middle of her sentence and shot him a glare, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. She cocked her head at him. "Nope. Gardner's been transferred to the cafeteria in the 4D wing."

Jeff grimaced. The 4D wing was clear on the other side of the space station.

"Now, don't make that face. Food's gonna be exactly the same."

"No, I just - "

"No time! Out of my kitchens!"

Joker let out a sigh and headed back to the cafeteria entrance. The dull roar of voices and people washed over him when he was still 40 meters away, growing louder and more cacophonous as he drew nearer. He stared and the entrance way a while longer, then turned and headed for his dorm room.

____________________

"God, can you believe that guy?"

"Well, he had a bit of a point, didn't he?" Shepard asked. Ashley shot her a cool glance.

"He was being deliberately obtuse about the role of poetry in hanar society," she said primly. "His 'point' was immature and childish and . . . and stupid and wrong," she finished petulantly.

Kaidan laughed quietly. "Yeah, way to keep the high ground there, Ash."

Shepard set her food down next to Tali and began to eat her meal - veggie stir-fry, chickpeas, and the standard biotic high-calorie drink.

"I don't know how you veggies do it," said Ashley, through a mouthful of burger.

Shepard shrugged. "Never ate meat out in the colonies, and I didn't start when I was on the Citadel." She wrinkled her nose at Ashley and Kaidan's matching burgers. "Meat looks too . . . fleshy. Doesn't even really look like food to me."

"Tastes like food, though." Kaidan's tone was dry, but his eyes sparkled with humor.

Shepard smiled at him, glad to see him smiling and joking. Kaidan was a biotic who'd undergone training at BAaT - by all accounts a brutal biotic training regimen - supervised by turians who hadn't seen enough human bloodshed during the First Contact War. It was all very hush-hush, but word got around that there was an incident between Kaidan and a superior officer at BAaT.

There were tons of rumors surrounding the whole she-bang (someone had died?), and for the first few months after he'd been transferred to the GTA, he seemed impossibly quiet and broken.

He seemed more relaxed now. Still incredibly reserved, but at least he'd stopped flinching whenever someone clapped him on the shoulder.

Tali sighed at Kaidan's words. "Sometimes I forget what actual food tastes like," she said, between sips of raspberry-flavored dextro-nutrient gel. There was dextro food in all of the cafeterias, but it was catered towards turians and rather unappetizing to quarians (and everyone else, for that matter.)

Tali was one of the only quarians on the entire space station. Technically, she was on her pilgrimage, presenting a quarian face to the rest of the galaxy and learning as much as she possibly could so that she'd be a useful asset to the flotilla.

Tali eyed Garrus's meal – a standard turian dish that looked very tentacle-y – and slurped at her Nutrigel with renewed vigor. At least she was used to Nutrigel from all her time on the Flotilla. She missed food sometimes, but it was much simpler to just take in sustenance through her emergency induction port.

Shepard followed Tali's eyes and scrunched up her nose at the food on Garrus's plate. Garrus caught her staring and kicked at her. She laughed and tried to kick back, but missed. She'd known Garrus for years, even before she enrolled at the GTA. After she was rescued from Mindoir, she was placed in an orphanage on the Citadel. She met Garrus when he was just a wee little turian following his father around C-Sec.

She glanced over to her left, where Ashley was engaged in awkward conversation with Wrex.

"So." Pause. "Wrex, I never asked you. You've got to be the only krogan on the space stay. What are you . . . " Ashley trailed off at the end.

Wrex looked at her without blinking. "You askin' why I'm not out mercin' or killin' something?"

"No. No! It's just. . . . you're not what I expected."

"Right. Because you humans have a wide range of cultures and attitudes, but krogan all think and act exactly alike."

"No, I didn't mean. . . look, just forget I said anything."

"Done."

Ashley bit her lip. "I just meant, well. . . what are you studying for, Wrex?"

He grunted. "The training here. It's good. Back on Tuchanka, I'll be stronger than all the other krogan who've been wasting around, mercing, picking up jobs where they can find them. Have a shot at some real power. Make decisions that mean something."

Ashley thought for a moment. "So, what, you go back to Tuchanka; become king of the krogan? Then what?"

Wrex's face twisted into a grotesque smile. "I've got plans."

Ashley regarded Wrex warily. "Take over the galaxy plans?"

"No." Wrex's voice was curt.

Ashley cocked her head and looked at Wrex, then nodded. "Yeah, I understand what that's like. Not! Not the genophage, or anything. But having to be stronger than everybody else. That I understand."

She flicked an imaginary speck of dust from her armor. "My family has spent most of our lives being stronger than everybody else. Trying to shake off my grandfather's memory."

Wrex perked a bit at this. "Oh? What'd he do?"

Ashley bit her lip. "He surrendered to the turians." She shot Garrus a look out of the corner of her eye and frowned. "During the First Contact War. He's - he's the only human to have ever surrendered to alien forces. It's a hell of a legacy."

At that, Garrus's head shot up, then he guffawed. "No way! You grandfather is Spineless Williams? Spirits, he's legendary."

Ashley set her jaw. "Laugh it up, Vakarian."

Garrus laughed quietly and leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, now I get why you're so competitve all the time. I wouldn't want his legacy on my back either."

"You know nothing," she seethed.

Garrus threw his hands up in an oddly human gesture. "Hey, whoa. I just meant that I've gotten some perspective on you. I - I didn't mean to offend you."

Ashley regarded him coolly. "No offense taken," she said, in a tone of voice that suggested that offense had definitely been taken.

Shepard eyed them cautiously for awhile, but soon stopped listening once it became clear that Ashely wasn't going to rip out Garrus's throat over the dinner table. Shepard caught herself looking around the cafeteria, feeling vaguely as if she were searching for someone. The distantly disconcerting feeling she'd felt earlier in the day returned when she realized that she'd been looking out for a navy blue GTA cap.

_____________________

Joker had gone swimming that night. He'd pushed himself hard, but swimming was one of the few exercises he actually enjoyed. Buoyed by the water, he felt almost weightless, almost graceful. Where he was jerky and ungainly on land, he was fluid and smooth in the water.

His muscles were tired from the swim, and so Joker was reading on his bed, flat on his back. He unwrapped another of the ration bars he'd stolen from the kitchens, bit into it, and winced at the taste. _Would it kill you to just eat in the Caf like a normal person?_

Joker shook his head of the thoughts, and turned back to the book Jassal had given him. He flicked through pages, skimming through most of the text, focusing more intensely on the text surrounding diagrams. The book mainly focused on a new drive core, the Tantalus. It was powerful, but huge. A drive core that huge would definitely tip the ship out of balance, but the sheer power of a core that size would more than make up for any minor adjustments the pilot would have to make.

During the next few pages in the book, Joker decided that he wanted to fly a ship with the Tantalus Drive Core more than he wanted anything else in the whole gorram 'verse.

But, for the time being, he would settle for simulations in FlightSim.

_I bet I could actually write FlightSim code for a drive core like that._ He closed his eyes and ran through a brief outline of the program, just to ensure that it'd be possible.

_Totally possible._ He resolved to try out the code next time he ran a FlightSim.

Satisfied, he climbed into his bed, put a pillow between his legs, and turned off his light to sleep. The room was quiet, but his mind raced, filled with thoughts of drive cores and flying and Flightsim code. He found himself designing the code that would mimic the weight and capabilities of the Tantalus Drive Core. The unanswered questions chattered around in his head, getting louder and more insistent for his immediate attention.

Two minutes after he'd turned the lights off, he turned them back on, pulled on his socks and shoes, and began to make his way to the FlightSim chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Notes**
> 
>  
> 
> **Codex Entry: The Galactic Training Academy**
> 
> The GTA previously had separate cafeterias: one for asari, one for turians, one for salarians, and one for all other species currently studying at the GTA. This system was widely criticized by the galactic media, as it highlighted the low numbers of non-Council races studying at the GTA. After much blowback from the public, the GTA began to diversify its student body. In 5 years, they increased the percentage of students of non-Council races by almost 15%.
> 
> They also integrated the dormitories and cafeterias, suggesting that it would improve cooperation and foster cohesion among the students. It looked good in the brochures, but it was hell on the cooks.  
>    
>  **A couple of tiny hints of game dialogue in here, points if you find it.**
> 
> **Criticism is always always welcome.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Once again, thanks to my fabulous beta, peptoipso, and to all of you for reading.**

* * *

He'd stayed quiet in their next few Literature classes. He avoided attention like it was his job - he barely looked up, he got to class early and left late. Once Shepard had caught a glimpse of him walking in through the back door of their shared literature class. He'd had a slight limp - actually quite a pronounced limp, if she was honest. _Maybe he broke a leg_ , she thought. She frowned when she noticed the limp was equally bad in both legs. _Both of them._

In any case, Shepard couldn't help but notice that her heart gave a little flip every time she saw him. She'd ignored it the first few times, but soon admitted to herself that she perhaps had a tiny little crush.

 _Miniscule, really,_ she thought, as she looked up "Moreau" (that's what Krios had called him, anyway) in the Space Station extranet directory. There were two Moreaus on the space stay - a Pierre and a Jeff. She decided that her mystery crush looked more like a Jeff than a Pierre. Jeff Moreau.

 _That sounds familiar. Jeff Moreau._ She said it aloud, realizing that she liked the way his name felt in her mouth.

 _Where had that thought come from?_ She shook it off and tried to remember why the name "Jeff Moreau" sounded familiar to her. _Jeff Moreau._ She was sure she'd seen that name somewhere. _Somewhere._

It was early Saturday morning - 0600 hours. Professor Anderson had asked her to run a CombatSim that weekend; he wanted to see how well she did in a solo mission. She agreed readily, after all, she regularly practiced solo CombatSims. This time felt different, though. After he'd asked her, she distinctly got the feeling that she'd be auditioning for something.

In any case, Shepard headed down to the cafeteria for an early breakfast. There was hardly ever anyone there this early, but she gave the room a cursory glance anyw-

_He's here._

She spotted him almost immediately, and it made her blush to realize that she'd been looking for him every time she'd stepped foot in the cafeteria. He was sitting alone, at the table closest to the entrance. His head was propped up on one arm, and he was staring intently at his datapad. He wore navy pants, his navy GTA cap, and a black shirt that stretched nicely across his chest. His arms were nicely toned, and Shepard ran her eyes appreciatively over his figure. Shepard went to grab toast, eggs, an apple, and Biotic Nutridrink from the serving table, making sure to keep him in her sights all the while.

The cafeteria was almost empty, but she found herself walking towards him. She set her breakfast down in the space directly across from him. Joker looked pointedly at the rows of empty tables behind Shepard. She ignored the look, smiled at him and sat down.

"Uh, hi. I'm Joker."

 _Not Jeff?,_ she mused, with a hint of sadness. "Hey. I'm Shepard."

His head shot up, and he met her eyes. "Shepard. . . you're top ranked in biotics and combat training."

"Yep," she said, smiling slightly. _He knows who I am._ Her inner goddess did a tango of jubilation.

"You got a first name?"

She grinned. "Nope. Just Shepard."

He gave an exaggerated frown and shrugged, as if to say "Sure, why not."

"You got a last name?" Her voice rose teasingly on the last words, and he smiled despite himself.

"Moreau."

"Moreau? Jeff Moreau?"

"No. Joker, like I said."

 _So it *was* Jeff Moreau. God, where did I see that name?_ She racked her brains, thinking of when she'd seen it, when suddenly she remembered-

"You're the top ranked flight student," she blurted, with a hint of incredulity in her voice.

"Don't sound so shocked, you'll hurt my feelings." He leaned back slightly and crossed his arms over his chest. "You think I can't be a pilot because I walk funny?"

_So . . . not a broken leg, then._

"Not at all." Shepard quirked an eyebrow. "Didn't think you were a pilot because you're kinda buff. Not really the image one associates with guys who sit behind steering wheels all day."

Joker rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Pilots do way more than –" He stopped mid-sentence and took note of the laughter in her eyes. "Are you – are you fucking with me?" _Wait, did she call me buff?_

Shepard let out a short bark of laughter. "Maybe just a little bit."

Joker narrowed his eyes, but felt his anger and defensiveness lift just a touch at her easy laughter. "Y'know, it's not nice to mess with people like that."

"Sure it is. Anyway, I wasn't trying to mess with you. Maybe I just wanted to cheer you up a bit. You look so quiet over here alone."

"Yeah, well, maybe I like alone." _Alone's been working just fine for you, Moreau. . . Hasn't it?_ Joker thought back on his last few weeks - skipping meals to avoid other students; swimming in the dead of night; basically planning his entire day around interacting with as few people as possible. _Maybe alone hadn't been working . . . quite so well lately._

Shepard shrugged, oblivious to Joker's internal dilemma. "Okay." She was quiet for a few seconds. "So how 'bout this? I'll be alone over here on this side of the table, and you can be alone on that side, and we can be alone together."

Joker gaped at her. "That's - that's not how being alone works. If you're with someone while you're alone, you're doing it wrong."

She grinned. "Au contraire, mon ami." And with that, she pulled out her datapad, opened the file titled "Really Big Guns and The People Who Love Them," and began to eat her eggs.

Joker stared at her. "Hey. Hey, are you - "

She held up one finger without looking up from her datapad. "Nope. I'm alone right now. I've got a meeting with my professor in 30 minutes, and he's a hardass."

Joker blinked at her. Then, he glanced back down at his datapad, re-opened his FORTRAN-2171 Editor, and began typing one-handedly, using the other hand to shovel grits and biscuits into his mouth.

He peeked over at her and saw her lips curved into a slight smile, her eyes moving lazily over the page. He looked back down at his pad, adjusted some code, and took another bite of food.

He was alone. With Shepard.

It felt nice.

* * *

Anderson had designed Shepard's CombatSim himself. It was simple in concept -she was to rescue a kidnapped civilian scientist from a prison, then escort her to safety - but one of the hardest to execute. For one, she'd have no backup. For another, Anderson had designed this program specifically so that the scientist could be killed easily, resulting in an automatic mission failure.

Anderson watched Shepard's progress from outside the chamber. She vaulted silently over a ledge to avoid being seen by two prison guards, then seamlessly blended back into cover. He thought that was well done - she avoided combat when she could, using stealth to infiltrate the compound instead of force. She found the scientist in a room with an armed guard. She took him down efficiently and quietly, then freed the scientist.

Upon realizing that the two of them would have to fight their way out of the compound, Shepard changed objectives from "Infiltrate the Prison" to "Protect the Civilian." Anderson could almost physically see that change; that reordering of her priorities. Where she had been cautious and stealthy before, she was now aggressive and impulsive, disposing of enemies as soon as they entered her line of fire.

 _Smooth, quick, resourceful._ All qualities that the Council would be looking for.

She utilized her biotics as if they were just extensions of her own limbs - throwing warps and singularities both to incapacitate enemies and to make them more prone targets for her pistol.

 _She really had worked to improve her aim._ It wasn't perfect, but it was much better than it had been. She had good aim when she was behind cover, but in the open field, she could hit a moving target only reasonably well. She seemed aware of that, though, and used her biotics to herd enemy combatants together when she could, then picked them off with her pistol.

She fought her way to the hangar, protecting the civilian scientist so well that she was barely injured. Shepard relaxed slightly when the civilian had safely boarded their escape flightcraft, but stayed alert until she was sure that the CombatSim was over. Only then did she holster her weapon and take a few calming breaths.

Anderson nodded to himself.

_She's ready. Now to convince the Council._

* * *

Joker had had to spend the first few hours just getting used to the feel of a ship with the Tantalus Drive Core. The code he'd written simulated a medium-sized frigate, with the Tantalus packed tightly in the engineering room beneath the cockpit. The first time he ran the Sim, he'd practiced some elementary flight school maneuvers, getting used to compensating for the extra weight that made the ship top-heavy.

He adjusted quickly, though. In the few hours since he had begun practicing with the new core, Joker had developed an almost preternatural sense for the limitations of the ship and its new drive core. He knew just how much pressure to apply to the holographic interface, at precisely what angle he had to fire the ship's cannons, exactly what heading he had to give the ship to ensure that it'd be on target. Soon he was piloting with such ease that a bystander might've thought he'd learned to fly on a Tantalus Drive Core.

He had a flash of arrogance and impulsiveness.

"Joker to FlightSim VI. Create new simulated mission."

"What are the preferred mission parameters, Mr. Moreau?"

"Random location. Ship is a frigate with Tantalus Drive Core modification. Parameters for modification in Program Tantalus."

"Acknowledged. What difficulty level, Mr. Moreau?

 _Oh hell, just go for it._ "10."

The VI response was delayed. "Acknowledged. This Flight Simulation will begin in one standard minute. Please remain seated. Further instructions can be found on the Flight Simulation Manual Interface."

When he read the mission parameters, his eyebrows raised so high that they practically disappeared into his hair. _You did ask for Difficulty Level 10._

He steered carefully, trying to make it to the system's mass effect relay while compensating for the drive core, the failed thruster, and a failing shield system, all while trying to avoid detection from an enemy dreadnought placed inconveniently between him and the mass relay. He ran the ship as quietly as he could, but of course, the dreadnought took note of him and began to ready its firing lasers. Joker abandoned all pretense of secrecy and began evasive flight maneuvers.

The dreadnought was large, but nowhere near as quick and nimble as he could be in a freighter. Even with the failed thruster, he navigated reasonably well. He skillfully weaved and dodged the blasts from the dreadnought, barely avoiding a disastrous hit more than once. Once he was in range of the mass relay, he'd swiftly chosen a system (Destination: Anywhere But Here!) and made his escape.

Once he was sure he was clear of the dreadnought, Joker allowed his mind to relax (he'd learned to keep his muscles relaxed during flight - a tense pilot was more likely to make mistakes). He ended the FlightSim and looked onto the terminal.

_Flight Simulation Manual Interface_

_Date: 3.12.2173_

_Time: 18:37:52_

_User: Jeff Moreau_

_Current Mission Status: Complete_

. . . 

**Logged Hours: 10000**

A shiver ran down Joker's spine. He'd known it was coming, but it was still a thrill. _10000 hours._ Most of the GTA flight students averaged about 3000, maybe 4000 if they practiced often.

There was no fanfare, not even a programmed congratulations from the FlightSim VI. The moment passed without notice, without acknowledgement. Joker became hyper-aware of the sounds in the chamber - the ever-present hum of the FlightSim chamber, the buzzing of the overhead lamps, even his own breathing. For the first time in months, maybe even years, Joker felt the sting of loneliness.

He started to prepare a message to his mother on his Omni-tool, but soon discarded it in frustration. She'd be pleased, and vaguely excited, but she wouldn't understand. Joker could almost picture the message he'd get in response - "How nice, sweetie!" followed immediately by "So when's your next visit home?"

No, Joker needed someone who'd understand the gravity, the importance, the sheer _momentousness_ of the occasion. He wanted someone to share this moment with him, to appreciate it with him. And he needed it to be someone who was as dedicated as he was, who knew exactly what practice meant.

The thought sprung unbridled to the forefront of his mind -

_I wish Shepard were here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Notes**
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> **To everyone who reviewed, favorited, followed, or even just read, thank you for all the encouragement.**
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> **Reference to another famous (infamous?) piece of fanfic, points for finding it. ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra special thanks to my wonderful beta, peptoipso.

Joker would have skipped dinner again, but his stash of ration bars had run dry. He'd been planning a quick run to the cafeteria, but for some reason, a much larger-than-normal crowd had gathered around the elevators. Being smushed in a cramped elevator full of noisy, jostling people did not sound at all like a pleasant experience (Joker thought it might actually be his own personal incarnation of hell), so he slipped into a nearby stairwell and began the laborious descent down to the cafeteria. He slowly made his way down the stairs, one stair at a time, leaning heavily on the banisters for support.

A door slammed open a flight above him, and the thunderous steps of a group of people barreling down the stairs echoed throughout the stairwell. Joker tensed at the sound, and flinched at the imagined pain of what would happen to him if he just decided to barrel down a flight of stairs.

He was still reeling from that thought when he noticed that the thunderous noises had disappeared, replaced by quiet whispers and sniggers. He rolled his eyes, and turned his head back towards the sound. Two familiar (and utterly unwelcome) human faces greeted him with unfriendly smiles. _These two again._ He groaned internally. _This day officially cannot get any worse._

Most people pitied him. They'd avert their eyes whenever he made eye contact, awkwardly trying to pretend he didn't exist. Marcus and Grant, however, were special cases. They seemed to take real pleasure in making him uncomfortable and in _pissing him off_. This time, they crowded him on the stairwell, standing directly behind him without saying a word, practically kicking his heels every time he took a step.

Joker ignored them, and continued his trek down the stairs, feeling their ugly smiles burn through the clothes on his back. A door opened a flight below him, and he heard a light jog up the stairs. The footsteps got closer and closer until he turned the corner and came face to face with Shepard.

Joker's heart leapt into his throat, and immediately plunged down into his stomach. Why did he have to run into Shepard at exactly _this_ moment?

"Hey, Joker." She smiled at him pleasantly, oblivious to the tension emanating from the group.

She tore her eyes away from his and took in the scene - two older, larger boys crowding around Joker in a stairwell that was wide enough to comfortably hold two rampaging krogan. Her eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to speak.

"Is there a problem here?" Her voice was clipped - not harsh, but with a subtle overtone of threat and danger.

One of them – Marcus – gave her a suggestive smile that was meant to be alluring. "Just heading down to the caf." His gaze traveled down over her chest and down to her hips, before slowly reaching her face again. "You, uh, might want to join us."

"No thanks. I got enough practice shattering femurs back in CombatSim this morning." (Joker flinched a bit at that.) She crossed her arms across her chest and gestured with her head towards the door below them. "Caf's that way."

The two boys walked by Joker on the stairwell without incident, but Grant knocked Shepard's shoulder with his when he passed her. They exited through the door a flight below, and the stairwell was silent again.

Joker felt his face begin to heat (a sure sign that it'd soon begin to turn a shade more common on hanar than on humans), but he kept the blush from taking over his face through sheer force of will. Shepard turned on her heel and walked next to him, idly keeping time with him as he continued to move down the stairs.

"Weren't you going the other way?", Joker asked. He was annoyed and frustrated and frazzled and would have probably given up on food if he hadn't already worked so damned hard to get down the steps.

"Yep."

"So . . . shouldn't you _keep_ going that way?"

"Nah. Wasn't that important." She gave him a cheeky smile. "I think I'd rather talk to you anyway."

That made Joker a bit flustered. He liked that she wanted to talk to him (he _really_ liked that, in fact), but he hated thinking that she thought she needed to protect him.

"Okay, look." He took another step. "You didn't have to do that - "

"Nope."

"Because I can look out for myself - " (Step.)

"But of course."

"And look," (Step.) "I didn't even ask for your help anyway - "

"Do you wanna eat with us today?"

The abrupt change in topic gave Joker metaphorical whiplash and almost caused him to lose his balance. He was surprised enough that he answered her honestly.

"No. I eat alone." (Step.)

Shepard's face fell a bit, and Joker felt like a bit of an asshole.

"I um – I don't really do well with crowds."

"Well, there's only 5 of us today."

 _Only five, she says._ Joker resisted the urge to laugh nervously. He was set to argue the point, but then he saw how hopeful she looked and was startled into saying "Okay."

Shepard smiled at him then, a wide, toothy smile that made dimples appear in her cheeks. "You'll like everyone," she told him, and then proceeded to give him brief descriptions of her friends.

(He realized somewhere in the back of his mind that Shepard had almost certainly slowed down for him, but she'd moved so naturally around him that he hadn't noticed.)

Joker and Shepard reached the lunchroom, which, Joker noted with some relief, wasn't actually that crowded. There was a comfortable silence between them as they got food, and Joker appreciated that she didn't try to fill it with small talk. She pointed out their table across the cafeteria, which currently seated Wrex, Ashley, Kaidan, and Tali.

When Ashley saw Shepard walking towards the table with Joker, she raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and her voice came out wry as Joker took the seat across from her.

"Ah. It's the dude who hates poetry. Charming."

Shepard shot Ashley a pleading look. "His name's Joker." _Be nice,_ she mouthed silently behind Joker's back.

Joker, oblivious to Shepard's silent conversation with Ashley, simply shrugged. "Hey, I told you all the issues I had with poetry back in that class. I just need to know what you think. No frills, no _hints,_ no bullshit."

Ashley looked positively eager to argue the point again, but she backed off after receiving another glare from Shepard. "Fine, fine. I'll chalk it up to personal differences," – she couldn't resist a final jab – "And life experience."

Shepard rolled her eyes and sat down in the space next to Joker. It was a tight fit, but she dutifully resisted the temptation to lay her leg flush against his.

Ashley gestured at Joker's legs with her fork. "So, what, you broke a leg?"

 _Well, that was blunter than usual._ Joker decided he liked it, or at least liked it better than what usually happened. "Uh, yeah, actually. Quite a few times, in fact."

Wrex nodded almost sagely. "Ah, the benefits of a redundant nervous system."

Joker cocked his head. "Yeah . . . humans don't have that."

Wrex looked startled. "Oh. It must have been painful, then."

"Yeah." Joker looked around at the puzzled faces and prepared himself. "I have Vrolik Syndrome. Brittle bone disease. My bones never developed properly, they're basically hollow, too much force and they shatter."

(Shepard caught a faint tinge of bitterness in his voice, but no one else seemed to notice.)

"Oh. So what do you study here?"

"I'm in flight training," replied Joker.

Kaidan piped up. "Can you do that, with your, um . . ."

"Uh, yeah. I don't exactly fly with my feet."

Shepard snorted, and the ensuing laughter broke any remaining tension. The conversation devolved into more routine dinner conversation, and it became easy for Joker to yield the reins of conversation to someone who actually liked talking. Tali and Kaidan commiserated over some monster problem set that their Advanced Combat Engineering professor had given them. (Everyone else nodded and smiled sympathetically, as if they'd had the slightest idea what Tali and Kaidan were talking about.) Joker participated if he was asked a direct question, but mostly kept quiet and re-acclimated himself with the feeling of being part of a group.

Shepard watched him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to guard his emotions intensely. A few times he smiled at things that weren't funny, as if he was lost in his own thoughts, and Shepard wished she knew what he was thinking. She tried not to stare, but she found herself always aware of his movements.

She liked the way he moved - slowly, quietly, decisively. He wasn't . . . graceful, exactly. It was more that his movements were incredibly economical – he moved only when he had to, and his movements were precise. Maybe it was an artifact of flight school – jerky movements are probably not conducive to flying a ship. That's probably why she noticed it - it showed that Joker was a pilot, through and through. _Or maybe,_ Shepard mused, _you just really, really like this boy._

Shepard flushed a bit at that thought, and ducked her head.

Joker and Shepard continued eating dinner, both sneaking peeks when they thought the other wasn't looking.

* * *

Shepard slipped into Anderson's office. He was hunched over his datapad, muttering to himself as he typed on the datapad in front of him with his two index fingers.

Shepard held back a snicker. Anderson was notoriously bad with "all this new-fangled technology", as he called it. His datapad was a full seven generations old, but he continued to use it because it was the last to come with a stylus that could be used for writing, as well as a fully tactile keyboard.

She watched him hunt and peck for a while, but then announced her presence with a smart rap on the door to his office.

Anderson's head shot up. "Shepard." He gestured to the chair across from him, and Shepard took a seat.

"Normally I'd have time to chat, Shepard, but I'm a bit busy at the moment. So I'll just get straight to it." He adjusted his shoulders. "I'll be speaking to the Council tomorrow. They're looking for – They want me to recommend some highly ranked candidates for the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Unit."

Shepard sat in stunned silence for a moment, but then her heart began to beat faster, and she began to hope. "Do you - do you think that -"

"Shepard, they'd have to be _looking_ for reasons not to pick you."

Her spirits dropped. "Well, I'm human. There's one big whopping reason."

Anderson opened his mouth to disagree, but then sighed. "I'll be honest with you. It'll be hard to convince the Council. But you're the best candidate. You've got the combat skills, and you've got the leadership skills." He paused, and looked her straight in the eye. "You're the candidate I'm going to push for."

It was the most passionate Shepard had ever seen Professor Anderson, and she was touched.

"Do you think the Council is ready for a human Spectre?"

"It doesn't matter if they're ready. It's necessary." He paused. "Humanity is still mostly remembered as the species who started the First Contact War. The turians think we're weak, the asari think we're war-hungry, the salarians think we're dumb brutes."

"You think I can prove them wrong?"

"No. I think you don't have to." He leaned forward in his chair and rested his forearms on the table. "Who says the Council gets to set the bar for humanity?"

"They're looking for a few candidates, and Shepard, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you're on that team."

* * *

". . . .And what about this Shepard?" The turian councilor's voice was skeptical.

Anderson responded promptly. "Born in the colonies. Grew up in an orphanage on the Citadel. 'S been training at the GTA since she was thirteen."

"Highly ranked, I see."

"The highest," Anderson corrected.

"Hm. Well, you know what we're looking for. Tell us honestly now, who are the best people for the position?"

Anderson rattled off the list he'd spent hours preparing. "Azri Shepard, Garrus Vakarian, Urdnot Wrex, Tali'Zorah nar'Rayya, Ashley Williams, Kaidan Alenko."

(At Ashley Williams' name, the turian councillor widened his mandibles in a gesture that everyone recognized, but no one commented upon. )

The asari councillor made a skeptical face. "That's a very human-heavy list. And the krogan is simply out of the question." She scanned the list of prospective candidates. "What about this Kiala T'Mei? She's highly ranked in both Biotics and Combat Training as well." She raised her eyebrows. "And rifles. Not often you see a biotic with Rifle skills."

She adjusted her shoulders. "The T'mei's are a strong family on Thessia. It could be good to have their support."

 _Politics._ Anderson resisted the urge to spit. "I've spoken with T'mei. She's already in training for a high level asari commando position back on Thessia. Doesn't have time for outside training."

"Regrettable."

"Shepard and Alenko are both highly ranked biotics, they'd both be good candi-"

The turian councilor interrupted. "Patience, Anderson. You're already campaigning for one human."

A bout of anger flashed through Anderson, as if he'd been stricken with a hot poker. _Gotta be twice as good to get half as far._

The turian continued. "What about Vakarian? Garrus Vakarian."

Anderson responded immediately. "A strong sniper. Decent tech skills. Intelligent. Works best under the command of a strong leader." _A leader like Shepard,_ he thought, but remained silent.

The turian councillor nodded. "He sounds like a solid choice." He paused. "Let's aim for a balanced team for the first run. Who might you suggest as a tech specialist?"

Anderson responded immediately. "Tali'Zorah nar Rayya."

"The _quarian_?"

"Her technical skills blow anyone else's out of the water. I've seen her do things with an omni-tool that I didn't even know were possible."

"And her combat?"

"Solid. Not her strongest suit, but she can handle herself." Anderson smirked. "Uses shotguns."

The turian paused. "I know we're looking to diversify the council, but . . . I'm not prepared to compromise on the, ah, _quality_ of our prospective candidates.

"Turians and asari have always been staples of our Spectre recruits, simply because of how consistently good they are. Representation of other species in the Spectres is a nice, lofty goal, but-" The turian shrugged. "-but if turians and asari are the best combatants, then they're the best."

Anderson's patience with the turian councilor was growing thin. The man was being deliberately obtuse - he'd seen the rankings, he knew who 'the best' combatants were, and they weren't the damned turians and asari. Anderson answered him firmly and decisively.

"But they're not the best candidates. Not this time. Vakarian is certainly a solid soldier and skilled marksman, but Shepard is top ranked in both Biotics and Combat Training, and an excellent leader. And Tali'Zorah, the quarian, is a better tech specialist than anyone else on the station."

There was quiet as the Council members ruminated over Anderson's words, but the salarian councillor filled the silence. "Then it would seem we have our first round of candidates."

Anderson allowed himself a small, internal cheer of victory, but jumped immediately into the next battle. "Shepard leads well. Put her in charge of this mission."

There was again silence for a moment. "Are you sure you're doing this for the right reasons, Anderson? Perhaps you are motivated by other, shall we say, _biases_?" The turian's voice was positively filled with doubt and suspicion.

Anderson decided to hold his tongue, and answered the question respectfully and impartially.

"If you're referring to a personal bias that I may have towards Shepard, I only have to present her record. I have no bias. She's the best."

"If you're referring to my desire to see a human Spectre, then I say absolutely. But don't be fooled. Shepard isn't just the best _human_ candidate. She's the best candidate. Period. She's already developed the leadership skills, and right now, she's the person I'm most comfortable having oversee this mission."

The turian councilor nodded reluctantly. "We should begin with a shakedown run. Something simple, avoiding combat for now."

The asari councilor spoke up. "We have reason to believe that there are valuable asari matriarch writings to be found somewhere in the Plutus system. The words of this matriarch are valuable to my people." She took a breath. "Retrieving them would serve as a good first mission for a prospective Spectre."

"This will be the first in a series of shakedown runs. We'll see how well they do out in the real world, facing real combat," the turian councilor added skeptically.

The three councilors looked at each other and nodded, and made notes on the datapads in front of them.

The salarian dalatrass spoke. "The council has moved to initiate Spectre training for Azri Shepard, Garrus Vakarian, and TaliZorah nar'Rayya.

"We wish them well."

* * *

Anderson's class had been brutal. The two teams (Shepard/Tali/Garrus and Kaidan/Ashley/Wrex) had run a difficult CombatSim against what felt like an entire platoon of geth, each team trying to kill as many geth as possible. Kaidan had employed an aggressive and offensive method of combat for his team. The geth had ultimately been unable to counter their attack, but Kaidan's team paid for it dearly. By the end of the CombatSim, his team had taken the brunt of the fire, and were in noticeably worse shape than Shepard's.

Shepard, on the other hand, had strategized smartly. She let the geth focus the brunt on their attack on Kaidan's team, while she and her team had stayed in cover. Shepard used biotics to herd the geth out of cover and into her teammates' lines of fire, where Garrus and Tali picked them off easily. At the end of the CombatSim, the score was close, but Shepard's team just barely eked out a win over Kaidan's team.

Shepard, Tali and Garrus were packing up to leave when Anderson called them into his office. He was standing in front of his desk, his hands tucked behind his back. The three of them entered and stood at attention in front of him.

"I've spoken with the Council. They're interested in recruiting you to the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Council.

"You're not Spectres yet, but the Council is interested in jump starting your training.

"Congratulations to all of you. If you're still interested in the Council's offer, I need to know by 0900 hours tomorrow. Your first mission could be as soon as next weekend."

In a rare break in his veneer of professionalism, Anderson relaxed his shoulders and smiled at them. He crossed his arms across his chest, and the normally cool and collected features of his face transformed into a rare, deep, one-sided grin. He gave his head a small shake. "You done good."

The three students had barely contained their excitement up until that point, but at the uncharacteristic praise from Anderson, they all broke into huge, unrestrained smiles.

Anderson moved to dismiss them, but then leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "By the way. The turian councilor was sure to stress that this would be the 'first in a series of shakedown runs.' He 'wants to see how well you do in combat situations.'

He shot a quick glance towards the empty CombatSim room, leaned in further and spoke from deep in his throat. "Keep up performances like that and you should have no trouble. "

* * *

"Mr. Moreau, a moment please."

The lecture was over, and Professor Jassal had again called Joker down to talk to her. It had become a kind of ritual, him coming to talk to her after class. Usually she gave him books he'd be interested in, but this time, she seemed more determined, as if she had something specific she wanted to talk to him about.

"How's your FlightSim Training coming along?"

"Just hit 10,000 hours a couple of days ago."

Professor Jassal flashed him a smile of real pleasure. The wrinkles around her eyes creased, the dimples in her cheeks grew more pronounced, and Joker swore that he could see an actual sparkle in her eyes. He couldn't help but smile, himself – he liked knowing that there was someone on this space stay who appreciated him for his talents, and who'd just be genuinely happy for him when he did well. There was no pity in her smile, no barely-contained disbelief that the boy with the funny walk was currently the best flight student on the station. Just pleasure and pride, and Joker was grateful.

His reverie was interrupted by Professor Jassal's voice. "Jeff, have you heard of the 10000-Hour Rule?"

"Er. . . no." Joker fought the urge to rub the back of his neck. "Do I - Is there something I need to do?"

She waved her hand. "No, no, nothing like that. It's an unofficial rule, more like a trend, really. When we look at people who are excellent in their field- we're talking experts, best of the best, pioneers in their fields - most of them have practiced their specific task for roughly 10000 hours."

Jeff was silent for a moment as he took in the implications of Jassal's words. "So, that means –"

"It means that I'm expecting big things from you." Joker's chest swelled with pride, and he was again immensely grateful for Professor Jassal.

"Listen, Jeff. A few of your colleagues will be doing a series of missions for the Council in preparation for training as Spectres."

"They'll be doing quite a few intersystem missions, and they'll need a pilot. The council was going to assign them a standard Alliance pilot, but I think it might be a good opportunity for you to get some real-world experience on a real ship. Would you be interested?"

Joker felt a thrill run through him. He was going to fly. Flying a _real_ ship on a _real_ mission with _real_ consequences. His heart felt as though it would beat out of his chest.

He looked up at Professor Jassal. "Is this for real?"

She laughed easily. "Yes. It's for real." She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. " You don't have to give your answer right away. Why don't you think it over, and let me know –"

"No. Yes." Joker shook his head quickly, as if to clear his thoughts. "No. I don't need to think it over any longer. Yes, I'll do it. Absolutely."

"I know it's exciting, but are you sure you don't want to –"

"No. I want it. I'll do it. Of course I will."

She nodded at him. "All right. I'll let Anderson know."

"When would I start?"

"They're looking to take their first mission in the next week or two."

Joker's heart leapt into his chest. "Wow."

Jassal patted him on the shoulder again. "You're ready."

Joker nodded, dazed. "Yeah, I just – I hadn't expected it so soon."

"You're ready," Jassal repeated.

Joker nodded again and then left the room, a bit more slowly than he usually did.

Jassal watched him leave, then pulled her datapad out of her bag and began a message to Anderson.

* * *

Later that night, Joker laid on his bed and thought. After his talk with Jassal, he'd gone through the motions of student life for the rest of the day, but his mind had been preoccupied, racing with thoughts of ships and mass relays and . . . and _flying._

When he looked back on this day years later, Joker didn't think he'd remember what any of his professors had said in any of his classes. He wouldn't remember how many laps he'd swum in the pool, what he'd had for dinner, or even how many times Shepard had smiled at him. ( _Three, actually,_ his inner voice insisted unhelpfully.)

But even considering all the things that he knew he would forget, he _would_ remember at least one particular moment of this day. As if to prove the point to himself, he closed his eyes and replayed the memory of his conversation with Jassal for the 50th time, resolving to never forget it.

 _I'm going to fly._ He'd always known he would, of course, but in the six years that he'd been training at the GTA, it had been easy to forget that he would one day be the pilot of a ship. The thought had gotten lost in countless hours of FlightSim practice, in classes, in all the time spent trawling the space station. Actually flying a ship had seemed impossibly distant, something that'd happen to him eventually, like taxes. But not anymore. He was going to fly and it was _real_ and it was _here and_ it was _now._

 _I'm going to fly._ His mind repeated the phrase over and over again, as if the dream might leave him if he didn't say it often enough.

He drifted off easily to sleep that night, flitting between dreams, feeling as light as air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Notes**
> 
>  
> 
> **#1**  
>  The 10000-Hour Rule is a real thing! Malcolm Gladwell gives a great argument for the relevance of the 10000-Hour Rule in his book "Outliers." Basically, it suggests (and gives evidence supporting the idea) that while anyone can be good, or even great at something, an expert in a field, (the best of the best - think Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Yo-Yo Ma) have practiced their craft for around 10000 hours.
> 
> Outliers is a really easy, interesting, and accessible read that discusses a lot more than the 10000-Hour Rule, so check it out if you think you might be interested!
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> #2  
> **
> 
>  
> 
> **Anderson's List for the Council**
> 
> **Rifles**  
>  1) Garrus Vakarian  
> 2) Ashley Williams  
> 3) Taurus Kavarik  
> 4) Kiala T'Mei  
> 5) Gaius Kivaelan
> 
> **Tech**  
>  1) TaliZorah nar'Rayya  
> 2) Merian Pellus  
> 3) Varoth Salos  
> 4) Kaidan Alenko  
> 5) Garrus Vakarian
> 
>  
> 
> **Biotics**  
>  1) Azri Shepard  
> 2) Kiala T'Mei  
> 3) Kaidan Alenko  
> 4) Urdnot Wrex  
> 5) Isana T'Pella
> 
> **Combat Training**  
>  1) Azri Shepard  
> 2) Garrus Vakarian  
> 3) Ashley Williams  
> 4) Urdnot Wrex  
> 5) Kiala T'Mei
> 
> Anybody want to take a stab at the species of the non-canon characters on the rank lists?
> 
>  **Next Chapter: The First Mission.** Are you excited? I'm excited. See you Friday or thereabouts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand thanks to my wonderful beta, peptoipso, and to all of you for reading.

A week had passed since Shepard had been selected for Spectre Training. Two days after the brief meeting in his office, Anderson had given her the date for their first mission and arranged for her, Garrus, and Tali to have a brief holochat with the Council. The Council gave their congratulations (even if the turian councilor did so a bit reluctantly). He made sure to stress that this was the easiest and most basic of missions, and that failure would be . . . illuminating. Shepard could sense his skepticism through the holo, and it might have been comical had it not been directed at her. The asari councilor made a quick save, rattling off something about facilitating group cohesion and wanting to see how well the three of them worked as a team.

The next five days had passed by with a blur, and before Shepard knew it, it was the night before her mission. Her excitement (and her nerves) had steadily grown all week. She couldn't honestly say if she was more excited for mission, or if she'd be more relieved when it was over. She shook the thought from her head and walked a little faster.

Anderson had called for a final debriefing session, and she was halfway to the debriefing chamber when she ran into Kaidan in the station's elevator. Kaidan folded his arms and quirked an eyebrow. "Long time, no see."

Shepard flushed. Once word got out that she, Garrus and Tali had been chosen by the Council, she'd felt a little uncomfortable around Wrex, Kaidan and Ashley. (Ashley more so than Kaidan and Wrex, if she were honest.) She'd been studiously avoiding them outside of class, pulling Joker-style maneuvers to get out of eating lunch with her friends. From what she heard from Garrus, Joker had eaten with them more often than Shepard had.

"Yeah, it's been a busy week." The excuse sounded weak, even to her ears. "How's everyone been? You, Ashley, Wrex . . ." Her voice trailed off at the end.

Kaidan shrugged. "Everyone's been fine."

She massaged her hands nervously. "Is anyone . . . upset?"

"Nah. The only one who might possibly be upset is maybe Wrex. . . but, well, you know Wrex. It _looks_ like he doesn't care one way or the other, but -" He rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "How the hell do you tell when he _might be_ upset about something?"

Shepard laughed despite herself.

"I think Ashley's more upset with herself than with you. And with Garrus, but that's only to be expected, really," he added.

Shepard barked out a short laugh and banged her head gently against the elevator wall. "Yeah, when is Ashley _not_ upset with Garrus?" She sighed. "I'll have to talk to her once this is over."

The unspoken question of how Kaidan felt hung in the air, but Shepard wasn't sure she was ready to address it yet. She never could tell how Kaidan felt, what with his emotions so deeply in check all the damn time. He seemed pretty happy for her, though. When she'd first run into him after the news broke, he'd been extraordinarily gracious, congratulating her with genuine warmth and large smiles. She'd reached out her hand for a shake, but he'd given her a look, grasped her hand, and then pulled her into a (slightly more-than-bro) bro-hug.

"You could have talked to her a long time ago." His voice rang loud and clear, interrupting her musings. They exited the elevator, and Kaidan kept walking in her direction. "You didn't have to avoid us, Shep."

She froze momentarily, but forced herself to relax and look Kaidan in the eyes.

"We're your friends, Shepard." Kaidan's voice was firm. "This thing with the Council, the Spectres . . . It's a shot any of us would have wanted. But if it couldn't be me, I'm glad it's you. And I'm pretty sure Ashley and Wrex feel the same way."

He stopped walking abruptly, and Shepard realized that she was at her destination. Her nerves came rushing back, and she inhaled deeply in an attempt to settle them. Kaidan noticed her growing distress, and his next words were placating - soothing, even. "It'll be fine, Shepard. It'll be more than fine. You're gonna do great." Kaidan gave her a light punch in the upper arm, then turned and jogged back in the direction they'd come.

She bit her lip, and called after him. "Kaidan."

He looked at her over his shoulder.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

He flashed her a smile, then waved goodbye. "See you at dinner," he said pointedly.

Shepard turned back to the door, let out a breath she'd been holding, and then entered the debriefing chamber.

* * *

Joker had never quite fully come down from his high - he'd simply moved from a dazed disbelief to an excitement that manifested itself as an ever-present tingle at the base of his spine. He felt a smile stretching his cheeks when he woke up in the mornings. Sometimes the thought that he'd actually be flying soon would hit him at random, inopportune times - in the middle of class, while standing in the elevator, while waiting on lines in the Caf - and he'd feel the now-familiar rush of adrenaline pour from his chest and into the rest of his body. He couldn't remember being this excited about anything, not even when he got his acceptance to the GTA.

He was currently attending the final debriefing before the mission. The five of them - Shepard, Garrus, Tali, Anderson, and himself - were seated around the table, and Anderson was giving them some last minute words of advice.

"The matriarch was travelling through geth space, so it's possible - though highly unlikely - that you'll run into a few geth on the planet surface." Anderson paused for effect. "Geth are shoot-on-sight, of course, but you also have permission to engage any hostile life forms on the planet surface. Try to avoid _picking_ fights with the indigenous life forms. The environmentalists hate that."

 _Combat stuff._ Joker resisted the urge to yawn. Instead, he let his eyes settle inconspicuously on Shepard, and he stifled a grin. That was another reason he loved his new extracurricular missions - they practically mandated that he spend an increased amount of time with Shepard. He'd found out he'd be going on missions with her at that first debriefing with the Council. When Joker walked in, she'd greeted him with a grin that threatened to split her face in two. Joker wondered if that was her standard "I just saw a friend in an unexpected place" grin (or something more), but in the end decided that it almost didn't matter. It was directed at _him_ , and it made his knees weak.

Joker was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of chairs scraping against the linoleum floor. _Guess the meeting's over._ He met Shepard's eyes from across the table and mouthed _Good luck._ She smiled and gave him a slight nod of thanks, but then refurrowed her brow and unfocused her eyes, lost in thought.

He felt a twinge of sympathy for her, but headed back to his room, purposing to get as close to a full night's sleep as he could.

* * *

The four students met in the hangar of the GTA Space Station at 0500 hours the next morning, each looking about as well rested as one could reasonably expect (which is to say, not very well-rested at all).

"What ship are we flying?" Garrus asked, stifling a yawn.

Joker responded quickly. "We've got the _SSV Iwo Jima_. Old ship, but decent fuelage. Designs look a bit top-heavy, but she's pretty fast. Runs quiet. 'Bout as nice as we could expect for a GTA student shakedown."

The conversation paused as the three turned to stare rather incredulously at Joker.

Joker acknowledged the stares with a cool shrug. "Pilot's gotta know what ship he's flying before he gets in the driver's seat."

It took them a few moments to find the correct docking bay for their ship, but they finally found it in the furthest corner of the hangar bay. It was a tiny thing (almost miniscule for a frigate), just under 80 meters in length. The paint job was faded and a few decades out of date, and it looked like it hadn't seen a nanosecond of space flight in years.

Even so, Shepard caught a glimpse of Joker staring at it as if it were his firstborn child.

Anxiety roiled deep in her stomach, but she pushed it away, afraid - _No, unwilling, _she corrected - to let anything but cool professionalism show in front of her three crewmates. "Let's give her a once-over, and prepare to leave at 0600 hours." They quickly made their way to ship's entrance where they were greeted by the ship's VI, who cheerily instructed them to hold still during the decontamination process.

The door to the ship proper finally opened, and the lights flickered on with just the smallest hint of hesitation. Shepard, Garrus and Tali moved to tour the ship, but Joker headed straight towards the cockpit, barely sparing an over-the-shoulder glance at the rest of the ship.

The three of them walked through the ship, visiting the armory, the engineering room, the mess, and even the very-sparsely-furnished sleeping quarters before ending the tour in the ship's med bay. Tali barely gave the room a cursory glance before alerting Shepard that she'd be in the engineering room.

Shepard couldn't blame her for leaving. _It is, in all honesty, kind of a dinky ship._ As if to prove her point, at that moment Shepard came face-to-face with the medi-gel dispenser in the med bay, which was obviously and visibly broken. Shepard pounded at it with her fist. It did absolutely nothing to fix the jammed crank, but it did give Shepard a convenient outlet for the tension that had been building up over the past week. One measly pouch of Medi-gel fell out of the dispenser, as if mocking her frustration.

She gave a snort and tossed it to Garrus. "Let's hope we don't need it this time."

Garrus quirked his head at her. "And here I thought you'd be itching for combat."

Shepard crossed her arms and pursed her lips, contemplating what Garrus had said. "Yeah, so did I, actually. But mostly what I want is for this mission to go off without a hitch. Search a system, find some matriarch writings. I'd consider it a win if we all came back without a single hair out of place."

Garrus ran a protective hand over his fringe. "Yeah, that didn't translate properly. But I got the gist of it."

She laughed, and had just opened her mouth to speak when -

"Preliminary checks complete. We're ready to go on your order, Sh . .uh . . Commander." Joker's voice was scratchy over the ship's long-unused intercom, but Shepard heard every word loud and clear.

Garrus looked back at Shepard. She let out a shaky breath as her stomach tightened uncomfortably. Her mouth had turned dry, and she licked her lips in a vain attempt to regain some moisture.

Garrus's mandibles widened slightly in surprise. Shepard was nervous.

"Don't give me that look, Garrus. It's a big deal. It isn't CombatSim, you know?" She stretched out her neck. "I know I'm supposed to be excited, and I am, I'm just -" She let out a breath. "It's a lot of pressure." Oddly, simply speaking the words aloud seemed to relax her. Her shoulders untensed a fraction of an inch, and her breathing became less erratic – deeper and more measured.

Garrus noticed the changes and pulled her into a bro-hug, a real one. "Dunno why you're worried, Shep. You'll see. Once you get down there, all the training will kick in." He released her from the hug, and nudged her towards the door to the med bay. "Besides, your pilot's waiting." Shepard ignored the rush of heat and adrenaline and . . . .something . . . she got from hearing Joker referred to as "her pilot," and nodded.

"I'll be on the observation deck during takeoff, but after that you can find me in the armory."

"Thanks, Garrus." Shepard waited for Garrus to leave, took one final breath and steeled herself. _This is it._ She ran through a series of mental exercises to quiet her racing mind, and then headed up to the cockpit.

The doors to the cockpit opened silently as she approached. Joker was leaning against the control board at the front of the room, stroking the machinery as reverently as he would a lover, palming the curved wall above the pilot's seat. It was an intensely personal moment, and Shepard tore her eyes away from himhad never felt more like a voyeur. She slipped unnoticed out of the room, and paged Joker over the ship's intercom system. "Heading up to the cockpit now."

"Aye-aye," he responded. This time, Shepard entered to find Joker seated in the pilot's chair, the very picture of dry professionalism.

"So, did they give you anything more specific than 'Plutus System'?" Joker asked.

"Nope. There are probably only a couple of planets that we can land safely on, though, so that should narrow it down some."

Joker nodded. "Once we're in range, I can scan the planet's surface, tell you the best places to land."

"All right. Let's head out." She turned and moved to exit the cockpit. "I'll be at the Observation Deck."

"You might wanna stay up here," he said, and Shepard swore she could hear the cocky grin in his voice. "Pilot's got the best view in the house."

She didn't have to be asked twice. "Can I sit here?", she asked, motioning towards the copilot's seat.

"Sure." Joker gave her a one-sided grin without taking his eyes off the sky. "But no touching."

He was flirting with her. She was almost sure of it. She smirked slightly, then settled into the chair and gave him a long, lingering glance. He felt her eyes on him, but he kept his eyes on the control panel. "You're right. Hell of a view."

When he glanced over at her, her gaze was fixed on the front window, but there was a faint smile on her face.

Joker opened a channel to the Space Station's mission control. " _Iwo Jima_ to Mission Control, _Iwo Jima_ is prepared for takeoff."

He must have gotten a response in his headset, because he began to move his hands over the holographic control interface at an almost frenetic pace. After a moment, a loud _thunk_ resounded through the ship - the ship had undocked from the hangar bay - and it hurtled into the dark of space with a quick boost of the thrusters.

* * *

_It wasn't like FlightSim._

That was the first thing that Joker noticed about flying a ship. FlightSim had prepared him, of course, but it failed spectacularly at replicating the actual _feel_ of flying. There was a weight to the ship that the simulator just couldn't capture, a low thrumming that reverberated throughout the ship. It reminded him that everything was _real_ \- that he was flying in a hollow hunk of metal, hurtling through space at FTL speeds.

Joker reveled in the feel of a ship moving under his command. His heart drummed in his chest, and he swore that he could discernthe acrid and utterly _empty_ smell of space from his pilot's seat. He hadn't spoken since take-off, focusing intently on the feel of flying. After about an hour, they were within range of the mass relay. Every inch of Joker's skin thrummed in anticipation as they drew nearer, the relay eventually growing so large that he could no longer see all of it from his window.

Shepard had passed through mass relays dozens of times before, but this time felt inexplicably different. For the first time, she was incredibly aware of how small the ship was in relation to the mass relay, how it seemed to emit a hum that bored into her skull, how the hypnotic rotation of the core seemed to beckon travelers towards it. Her jaw gradually dropped lower and lower until she was practically gaping at the panoramic view in front of her. _Best view in the house, indeed._

"Everything all right over there? You almost look afraid, Commander," Joker noted with a laugh in his voice. It was the first he had spoken since they'd taken off, and his voice startled her a bit.

Shepard snapped her jaw shut and squared her shoulders. "Afraid. _Hah._ Fear is the mind-killer." Joker's head snapped towards her at that. _She makes references to old-earth sci-fi, be still my beating heart._

He shook his head and refocused on the task at hand, preparing for his first run alongside a mass relay. He hadn't thought that he'd be as nervous - _yes, nervous -_ as he was, but his stomach flipped and sank and twisted like a boat struggling to stay afloat in the midst of a storm. He'd had to consciously remind himself to release the tension that threatened to freeze him in place, something that he hadn't had to do since his earliest Flight classes.

He steered so that the ship was parallel to the arms of the relay, exhaled, and began to accelerate. The core sent out a beam of light that engulfed the ship, and Joker felt the familiar hook in his navel as the relay pulled at them, preparing to hurl them into space. The acceleration slammed him against the back of his pilot's chair, forcing him to fight against the sheer magnitude of the relay's boost in order to remain in control. The ship vibrated violently under his hands and thrummed with barely-contained force – his own efforts to steer eerily reminiscent of a _matador_ struggling to remain seated on a bucking bull. He guided the ship towards the point of no return, hurtling off into the unknowns of space at almost unthinkable speeds.

Shepard had never seen him fly; just heard he was the best. Seeing him in action proved the point. His face was an open book - brow furrowed, lips pressed so tightly together that they'd almost disappeared. His hands flew over the controls, and he moved so naturally in the pilot's seat that it seemed as though he were _meant_ to fly. Heat pooled in her low abdomen in a sensation that she didn't want to name.

"You can really fly, Joker," she said, barely-contained amazement in her voice. Joker looked up at her, shocked into silence, his ego feeling like it might burst from the rapid expansion.

Shepard rose from the copilot seat and began to head back onto main deck, but squeezed Joker's shoulder as she passed.

His shoulder was warm for minutes after she removed her hand.

* * *

They'd gotten to the Plutus system without complications. After determining that the planet Nonuel was the most likely prospect, Joker performed a more in-depth scan, marking the coordinates for likely anomalies. He ran through some quick calculations, then reported to Shepard.

"I can drop you down about a kilometer away from this first set of coordinates."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "That close?"

Joker gave an exaggerated sigh. "Does the title 'Best Flight Student at GTA' mean nothing to you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Do it, and send the exact coordinates to my Omnitool. I'll be at the Mako.""

The _Iwo Jima_ dropped the Mako 572 meters from the first set of coordinates.

"Showoff," Shepard muttered under her breath, and began to drive the Mako. She navigated carefully, aware of the rugged terrain of the planet's surface. She maneuvered around mountains instead of over them, because Shepard was an excellent driver.

When they were about halfway there, an unregistered anomaly showed up on her radar. She peered in the direction of the anomaly and saw a building of some sort off in the distance. The fuzzy shape of the building became more clearly defined as she drove closer. When they were 50 meters away, she parked the Mako and gave the order to exit.

"On your six, Shepard." Garrus's voice brooked no nonsense.

She decided to rib him a little. "Better make it the eight, Vakarian. If we see anything, I don't want to be in your line of fire. Wouldn't want you to accidentally shoot me."

Tali snorted through her mask. Shepard didn't even need to turn towards Garrus; she could feel his glare through her communicator.

" . . . I'll pretend like I didn't hear that. Commander."

Garrus moved to take a step forward, but Shepard stopped him with a clipped order. "Wait. Guns out." Her caution was a bit overkill (after all, her radar detected no other signs of life in the surrounding 500 meters), but Shepard would be damned if she had to face the embarrassment of flubbing her first ever mission without ever even having drawn her gun.

"On my six, Vakarian." (The joke was over.) The three of them cautiously approached the compound. It was very old, and it looked like it hadn't been disturbed in ages. The door to the bunker didn't have the standard holographic "Open" button, so Shepard manually forced the doors open. The light automatically flickered on when she entered, casting the bunker in an eerie dim glow. There was a bed, an empty desk, a chest that most likely contained food supplies, and a locked crate.

"Got a crate in here for you, Tali. Average encryption, it looks like."

"On it, Shep." Tali ran forward and opened up her Omni-tool, and in a few seconds, the lock had popped open.

"Sweet. Two shotgun upgrades." She pocketed one and tossed the other to Shepard.

Meanwhile, Garrus was running his palms over the insignia painted on the inner walls of the bunker. "This insignia . . . This is a salarian outpost." He looked down at the dust that now coated his glove. "Or it was, anyway."

Tali looked out the window of the bunker . "I -uh- I don't think they made it," she said, gesturing towards a lump that looked suspiciously like a body.

"Let's head over there. See if we can't find some identification."

A few minutes later, the three of them were standing around the mummified body of a salarian. Shepard saw a golden medallion pinned to the chest of his uniform. She moved to unpin it from his uniform, but at her touch it easily ripped through the old clothing covering the body. She showed the medallion to Garrus. "This mean anything to you?"

"It's a League of One medallion." Shepard thought she caught a hint of amazement in his voice. "Highly, _highly_ decorated salarian special agent here."

"Should we move him?" Tali asked, rubbing her hands together in what Shepard had come to realize was a nervous gesture.

"Not sure what salarian burial customs are." She made a quick decision. "He's got a League of One medallion, so he's someone pretty important." She bent down over the body and removed the dog tags from around his neck. "We'll send these and the coordinates to the salarian dalatrass once we get back."

She stood up quickly, as if she'd just remembered that they'd had a mission to complete. "Back to the Mako. We've still got some matriarch writings to find."

They made two stops along the way, both times mining small amounts from ore deposits on the planet's surface. Finally, they reached the last anomaly that Joker had flagged. It was a simple crashed probe. The three of them exited the Mako, and Shepard had Tali check to make sure it wasn't booby-trapped.

"Tali, see if you can find anything useful in its hard-drive."

It took Tali a few minutes, but then Shepard heard her voice through the communicator. "I think I've got something, Shepard." She made a few more strokes on her Omni-tool, and then sent the recovered document to Shepard.

Shepard looked at the document long enough to find the title - _Musings of Matriarch Dilinaga_ \- and breathed a huge sigh of relief. She activated a com-link to the _Iwo Jima_. "Mission completed, Joker. Ground team ready for pick-up."

His voice reverberated around her helmet, and for a brief moment, she considered never taking it off. "Aye-aye. Coordinates received. Pickup in three minutes."

Two minutes and thirty seconds later, Shepard saw the _Iwo Jima_ accelerating towards them from off in the distance, a speck that steadily grew into the powerful outline of a ship. _My pilot's flying that ship,_ she realized with a thrill, and the thought gave her shivers.

* * *

Back on the _SSV Iwo Jima,_ Shepard had had brief chats with Garrus and Tali. Spirits were high, smiles were easy, and the tension that had plagued Shepard all week had disappeared almost instantaneously.

Garrus grabbed her arm as she passed. "I told you, Shep. You were ready."

Shepard beamed at him, and then headed back to the cockpit, shoulders back and chin high.

"Fly us home, Joker."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Notes**  
> 
> 
> In preparation for the next chapter, I'd like to remind all readers that this fic is rated E. That is all.
> 
> See you soon!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand thanks to my wonderful beta, peptoipso, and to all of you for reading.

After returning from her successful first mission, Shepard staggered into her room and promptly crashed into bed. Ten hours of heavy sleep later, she woke up well-rested, but restless. She found herself unable to sit still for even a moment, instead choosing to aimlessly pace the corridors of the Space Stay.

The CombatSim she'd attempted earlier that day (in a futile attempt to soothe her ragged nerves) had failed spectacularly. The geth trooper had crept up behind her, but she hadn't noticed him until she'd felt the cold pressure of his rifle on her back. Her eyes had widened in shock, and then her shields and health were gone in two short bursts of gunfire. It seemed as though the CombatSim VI had let her linger in the failed Sim a little longer than usual, as if it, too, were disappointed in her. Even now, the memory made Shepard's face heat up. _Killed in Level 6 CombatSim by a geth. What would Ashley and Garrus think?_

The thought hit her with the force of a biotic slam from a particularly pissed asari matriarch _. Just go talk to them._ Shepard buried her face in her hands. Kaidan had been right – she had so thoroughly isolated herself from her friends that it hadn't even occurred to her to just _talk_ to someone until that moment. Garrus and Tali were probably feeling the same things she was feeling – residual excitement, pride, restlessness – and it would be good to have someone to share her feelings with. Not to mention, she still had a few bridges to repair with the others. (At the very least, she had to make sure they hadn't rusted through from underuse.)

She could have kicked herself. Everything felt so unfinished because it _was_ unfinished. A quick glance at her watch told her that Garrus (and maybe Tali) would probably be in the Caf. She threw a few things in her knapsack and headed towards the Caf, her stride no longer aimless.

On her way over, she reminisced briefly on the events immediately following their return to the Space Stay. Anderson had been waiting for them at the gate, and once they'd debriefed him, his shoulders had relaxed a fraction of an inch. Shepard got the feeling that Anderson had been almost as nervous (more so?) than they had been.

When they presented the League of One Medallion to the salarian councilor, she'd seemed almost . . . emotional, her voice thick with gratitude. The asari councilor, Tevos, had congratulated them on a job well done, and informed them that their next mission would take place in a week's time. Even the turian councillor expressed (a very dry) congratulations to the three of them, and Shepard had had to fight to hold back the smug smile that threatened to overtake her face.

She was still smiling from the memory when she got to the Caf and met eyes with Garrus from across the room. He raised a hand and lazily waved her over to where he was seated with Tali, the two of them surrounded by empty packets of Nutrigel.

"Shepard! Thought I'd be seeing you around," Garrus drawled.

"Really? And why's that?"

"Because I know you, Shepard. You wouldn't be able to keep shut about this if you were paid to."

She ignored that for the moment and turned towards Tali, who was slurping noisily at _two_ packets of Nutrigel. "What's with all the Nutrigel, Tali?"

"New flavors! It's the caf's gift to me! They even got _kors'tha_ \- that's the flavor we use most often back on the flotilla - and there's all these imitations of human fruits, too."

Shepard paused for a moment. "Why would quarians want Nutrigel that tastes like human fruit?" she asked, puzzled.

"Human fruits are very flavorful. Well, all human food is really, but especially the fruits, they're very sweet. Most quarian fruits are savory, and more . . . subtle, and they don't really translate well into Nutrigel. Except for _kors'tha,_ but that gets boring." She paused to open up a new packet. "Human fruits are popular on the flotilla right now. Before I left, everyone was raving about banana, but mostly I think we just appreciate having new flavors."

Her eyes seemed to narrow behind her faceplate. "I've been asking for more variety at the GTA for years now. I guess being the 'First Quarian Spectre Candidate' gets people to finally start paying attention." Her voice took on a bitter tinge at the end.

Garrus gave off a chuckle and turned his head towards Shepard. "Maybe you should tell Ashley that she's not missing out on too much. The most exciting thing that's happened so far is new dextro Nutrigel."

Shepard opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the sound of Tali's muffled gagging.

"Ugh! That was _not_ grape flavoring," Tali wheezed.

Shepard grabbed at the Nutrigel pouch Tali had thrown down onto the table and read the labeling. Holding back a chuckle, she said, "Ah, Tali, this is grape _fruit_. It's a very different kind of fruit than grape."

Tali looked up at Shepard, somehow conveying bewilderment with a toss of her head. "Grape is a fruit, yes?"

Shepard nodded. "Grapes are fruits."

"But the grape fruit is not grapefruit."

"Yeah, grapefruits are totally different than grapes. They're more like bitter oranges. "

Shepard had the feeling that Tali was gaping at her. "Either my translator is broken, or your language is."

Shepard picked up the packet nearest to her - _Oh gross, who wants_ _ **lime**_ _-flavored Nutrigel?_ \- and tossed it to Tali. "Here. Banana. This should be safe."

Tali ripped the packet open without looking at the label, took a sip, and sputtered. She read the label and shot Shepard a look. "I can't believe I fell for that," she said after a moment, resting an exasperated hand against her faceplate.

Shepard bit back a smile, then turned back to Garrus and sighed dramatically. "I don't know what to tell Ashley at all. I can't tell if she's more upset about not being chosen or more upset that _you_ were."

"Both, probably," Garrus replied in a low, rumbly voice. "She never did seem overly fond of me. I never did figure out why."

Shepard tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "I'm not sure, Garrus. Ribbing her about her dead grandfather probably didn't help, though."

"Oh come on, Shep. It was before that, and you know it." He shrugged one shoulder. "But point taken."

"Well, she was a lot closer to the First Contact War than most anyone else I know. She's probably just a bit resentful. And she was bound to be at least a little cool towards anyone who ranks higher than her. Speaking of which - " Shepard gave Garrus a side-eyed glance. "- you sure this tension is all on Ashley's side, Garrus?"

Garrus looked offended. "Turians don't hold grudges against people they've beaten in battle. Certainly not _humans_." "Besides, I don't hate humans. I even kissed one. Once." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "It wasn't pleasant."

Shepard snorted. "Yeah, I'll bet."

Well, I'm headed towards the library. Gotta finish that paper for Krios."

Tali groaned, and Shepard inwardly echoed the sentiment. They'd spent the last week in Galactic Literature and Poetry watching the full 9-hour performance of the Elcor directed production of Hamlet. She'd sat next to Joker, and they'd snickered quietly through the whole 9 hours, commiserating over the ham-fistedness of the Elcor Hamlet's monologues. (Shepard had quietly admitted to herself that if she absolutely _had_ to watch Elcor Hamlet, Joker was probably the best film buddy she could have hoped for.)

In any case, Krios had assigned them a paper on the Elcor interpretation of the relationship between Ophelia and Laertes, and Shepard had barely started. Part of the problem was that she couldn't remember much of the performance, what with being preoccupied with sitting so close to Joker. She racked her brain hard, trying to remember any scenes with Ophelia and Laertes. _Oh! That was the day he changed his aftershave._ She smiled from the memory, and then grimaced. Her entire memories of that day were shot, and she realized that she was going to have to read up on some Elcor Hamlet criticism before she could write any kind of coherent paper.

"Yeah, that's how I feel, too," Shepard said, responding to Tali's groan. "Hence my trip to the library." _Maybe I'll run into Kaidan while I'm there._

She gathered her things and prepared to leave the lunchroom, but Garrus reached out a taloned hand and grabbed her by the wrist.

"Hey, Shep. For my first ride out, I'm glad it was you." Tali nodded vigorously in agreement (her mouth currently occupied by both strawberry and banana Nutrigel), and Shepard shot them both a grateful smile.

"Glad you guys were there for mine." She tossed up a hand in goodbye, and headed for the door.

After leaving the lunchroom, she turned the corner into the stairwell and practically barrelled into Wrex, who paused momentarily before focusing one eye on her.

"Shepard."

"Wrex -" she started, but Wrex had turned the corner and was long gone. She let out a petulant huff of air (that was _not_ in the plan) and continued off towards the library in search of Kaidan and quiet.

* * *

Kaidan spent most of his down time in the Space Stay's library. It was a bit of an archaic addition to the space station, serving more as a quiet place for study instead of a home for borrowed e-books. The cherry wood bookcases lining the library's walls still held memory chips containing the classical works from the majority of the galaxy's known races, even though technology had long since unearthed a much more efficient method of storage.

Kaidan knew that the library was just a reproduction deliberately designed to seem like an Old Earth library - the bookcases weren't even made of real wood. Still, the overall effect was one of peace and quiet and (somewhat artificial) nostalgia, and Kaidan liked it. It also engendered a feeling of peace and quiet - the feeling that he could almost relax. (And he liked the architecture, because Kaidan was totally the kind of guy who liked architecture.)

The library was positively littered with armchairs and tables and study carrels, and Kaidan had chosen to sit in a secluded spot far away from the library entrance. Kaidan sat at his table with a small mound of datachips next to him. A flash of movement caught his eye, and he looked up to find Shepard walking towards his table and waving slowly.

"You, uh, you looking for me?", Kaidan asked, with a hint of hopefulness in his voice.

"Yeah. Got that Krios paper to write, figured you were the guy I should find."

Kaidan raised an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes. "And yes, I'm still trying to make up for last week."

"You talked to Ash yet?" he asked pointedly.

"Naw, not yet. I –"

Kaidan interrupted her with a snort and smirk.

"Well, I'm not avoiding her! Not really. Look, I just got back from my first mission. Mostly I've been sleeping."

"Yeah, I meant to talk to you about that yesterday, but I figured you'd be pretty beat. How'd it go?"

A slow smile began to spread across her face. "It was - It was great. Perfect, even." She paused a moment. "You would have liked it, Kaidan."

His face took on a contemplative, pensive look. "I think you're right. I would have liked it." He rubbed his hands together slowly, mulling over his words carefully before he spoke them. "But . . . I'm kind of glad I didn't go this time. I wasn't ready. For real combat, I mean. I - I - need to focus on control. Maybe I'll be ready later. But not now."

Shepard cocked her head to the side. "Not that I'm discouraging control or anything, but . . . .well, you always seem in control, Kaidan." She let out a small laugh. "Sometimes almost _too_ much control. I can't imagine you losing control. "

Kaidan shrugged non-committally and didn't answer. Shepard got the feeling that he wasn't in the mood for talking anymore, but still wouldn't mind company, so she pulled out her datapad and began to engross herself in reading for the paper Krios had assigned them.

When she heard Kaidan's low voice a few minutes later, she jumped in surprise. "I have. . . I . . . did lose control. It went. . . badly." . Kaidan inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, and Shepard sobered quickly as she realized the gravity in Kaidan's voice.

"You know the story about the BAaT Academy, I'm sure."

Shepard swallowed and nodded. "Parts of it, yeah. The biotic training regimen sounded. . . brutal."

"It was. It was right after the First Contact War. Quite a few humans had begun to display biotic potential as a result of eezo accidents. The Alliance began to look for, ah, experts in biotics to train us. Turians, in fact.

"Yeah, I always wondered about that. Turians, right after the First Contact War? Why not the asari?"

"It was below the books. Alliance didn't want any of this going through Council. It'd make Earth look weak in front of the more _established_ Council species. So they got some turian mercs to show us around."

Kaidan had settled into the story. His eyes had glossed over and he was leaning back in his chair, with his arms defensively crossed over his chest. "They demanded we use biotics for everything. A lot of kids couldn't take it - too young, too weak, too tired."

"Or too good," he added as an afterthought.

"There was this one turian. Vyrnnus."

"A hardass?" Shepard asked.

Kaidan shook his head slowly. "More. He was . . . _sadistic_. Saw BAaT training as a chance to hurt some human kids and not get called out on it."

"He hurt a friend of mine. A girl named Rahna. She reached for a glass of water instead of pulling it biotically, and he broke her arm for it."

Shepard inhaled audibly.

"I stood up, I - I didn't even know what I was going to do. He slammed me against the wall and held me there by my throat. I couldn't breathe. And then it happened. I snapped. I lost control and snapped his neck. I still hear it, sometimes. The sound of his- I -" He shook his head, clearing his mind of the memory that poisoned him.

"Once word got out they shut down Brain Camp. Some of us came to the GTA. A few went to the Cerberus Academy. We all got serious counseling, but some of us never did recover.

"It's not likely to ever happen again, but . . .I need more than 'not likely.' I snapped. And I can't let myself make excuses for it."

The quietness of the library seemed overwhelming as Shepard processed everything Kaidan had told her.

"What happened to Rahna?" she asked gently.

"She transferred here, actually. Had her amp removed. Studies classical art history now." He cleared his throat. "It makes sense that she wouldn't want . . . She was always a gentle soul. A good soul."

She puts his hands on his shoulders. "So are you. You're a good person, Kaidan." He turned his head and refused to meet her eyes, as if he didn't believe her. He said nothing, staring at his hands as if the lines and sworls on his palms held the answers to the questions that plagued him. "I see her sometimes. In the hallways, in the caf, you know. She doesn't speak to me. Or even -" his voice cracks "- look at me."

"It's probably a dark time in her life. She's got a lot of memories. Painful memories." She grasped his hands in hers, refusing to let go even as Kaidan stiffened.

"Yeah." He moved as if to withdraw his hands from hers, but then jerked them back into place, forcing himself to keep in contact with her.

"Yeah," he repeated. "I just - I just wish that I was one of the good ones."

* * *

The shots echoed throughout the empty hall of the shooting range, each seeming progressively louder than the last. Shepard shot off another round at the targets (which were, at that point, positively _riddled_ with bullet holes), and she heard the door to the range slide open with a gentle _whoosh_ of air.

Ashley walked over and stood behind her, making sure that Shepard could hear her footsteps.

"You know, I'm pretty sure whatever you're shooting is dead."

Shepard didn't know if she was quite ready for another deep intense conversation (especially after the one she'd just had with Kaidan), so she remained quiet, willing to let Ashley determine the course of their conversation. They stood in silence for a few moments as Shepard reloaded her clip. Ashley pulled out her rifle and began to disassemble and clean it. Shepard waited patiently, not wanting to push her into talking. Sure enough, Ashley spoke up a few moments later.

"I'm not upset about the Spectre thing."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "That's surprising. I would be." She inputted a command to the system's VI to clear the range, and the bullet-ridden targets were replaced with new, untouched ones.

Ashley let out a humourless smile. "I'll clarify. I'm not upset at you. The reason I didn't make it - well, this time, it's not because of my family history. I just. . . wasn't good enough. I pushed myself and I worked hard, and it wasn't enough. That's – that's new for me." She closed her eyes, and her grip on her gun tightened slightly.

"Garrus is just a better soldier than I am," Ashley said with a tight voice.

"No, Garrus is a more highly ranked soldier than you are." Shepard flinched a bit at her own words. They were blunter than she had meant, but honest. Platitudes always seemed empty to her – she hated hearing them, and she didn't like to give them, so instead, she told Ashley the honest truth.

"Ash, you don't have to be _the best_ at everything in order to be an excellent soldier."

Ashley scoffed. "Yeah, that's rich. You wouldn't understand. It's not like _you_ have anything to worry about."

Shepard's temper flared a bit at that, and she could feel her jaw set and her eyebrow threaten to twitch. "Ashley, there are 386 people in the Combat Training Program. You are better than 383 of them."

Ashley let out her breath in a sharp huff. "Yeah, I don't mind _you_ outranking me. But Garrus . . . Garrus is an _ass."_

Shepard smiled. "Yeah, he is a bit of an ass."

Ashley's head shot up. "Really? I thought you were going to . . . But he's your friend!"

Shepard's face took on a mischievous glint. "You're a bit of an ass, too, and you're my friend."

Ashley snorted and looked to the side. "I thought you were going to tell me that I was misunderstanding Garrus, and that he's really a big softie once you get to know him." There was an undercurrent of disappointment in her voice.

Shepard understood then, understood that her friend needed to be convinced that it was okay to not hate a particular turian, even if he was a turian who outperformed her. "Well, he's not exactly a softie. Yeah, maybe he's got the world's thickest stick jammed up his ass, but he's a good guy. And you want him on your side."

Ashley was quiet. "Do I have to apologize to him?"

Shepard laughed. "It might be nice."

"Dammit. How am I supposed to face him? He's so goddamn smug. About everything."

She gave Ashley a light punch to the arm. "I hear the Williams women are good at surviving."

That seemed to steel Ashley a bit, because she straightened her spine, lifted her chin and shrugged one shoulder. "We get by."

Ashley gave her rifle one last swipe with the cleaning rag, unlocked the safety, and loaded a full clip. She quickly struck a pose and fired two shots at the new, untouched target, then turned and sauntered towards the exit, her hips full of swagger. Shepard looked back at the target and saw that there were now two bullet holes, one directly in the center of the head and another in the heart.

"Keep practicing, Shep. You'll be a good shot soon enough." Ashley tossed her ponytail as she turned to look back at Shepard. "I mean, not as good as me, of course, but good enough, I guess."

Shepard grinned. _There's the Ashley I know._ She turned back to the targets and fired a shot at the target's head. The bullet landed slightly below and to the left of Ashley's perfect center-shot.

Shepard shrugged. _Yep._ _Good enough._

* * *

This time Shepard caught Wrex standing in front of the elevators that would take him to the station's armory.

She stared at him for a moment before she made her decision. _Okay, take two._ She moved quickly, before she could talk herself out of what she was about to do.

"Heads up, Wrex!"

Wrex's eyes snapped sharply around the hallway but he looked up just in time to catch the shotgun upgrade that Shepard had lobbed at his head. He glared quizzically at Shepard as she jogged over to him. "Found 'em on the mission. Tali picked up her own set and I'm terrible with anything but a pistol."

Wrex looked down at them momentarily, then grunted in appreciation and inclined his head towards Shepard. "Didn't know you paid so much attention to my gun preferences, Shepard," he said in a voice that would have been flirtatious if it came from anyone but a krogan.

"Ah, you know me, Wrex."

There was a brief moment of silence, and Shepard almost turned to leave, but then -

"You kill anything while you were out?" Wrex asked, as if this were the true marker for a successful mission.

"Wrex, the mission was to retrieve asari matriarch writings from a deserted planet. What, should I have made a pit stop in another system and played target practice with the locals?"

"I would have," he said as he stepped into the elevator.

She laughed and placed her hands on her hips as the elevator doors closed on Wrex's large frame. "I'm sure you would have, Wrex."

Suddenly fatigued, Shepard rested her head against the closed door of the elevator. She thought back on her day and realized that she'd had pretty intense conversations with almost all of her crewmates.

A nagging feeling of something forgotten scratched at the back of her mind. She'd spoken to all of her crew members, everyone except –

_Joker._

How had she forgotten Joker? She looked him up in the Space Station Directory and found the location of his living quarters. _Maybe I should pay him a visit. Just for the sake of consistency_. She headed towards his quarters, almost sprinting with newfound energy.

* * *

The fitful and wholly unsatisfying night of sleep he'd gotten before the mission had caught up to Joker as soon as he entered his room, fatigue washing over his body as quickly as his residual excitement drained it. He resisted the urge to kick off his shoes (fractured kneecaps were the most embarrassing breaks to explain to med personnel) and carefully removed them before sinking into bed and letting sleep claim him.

He slept for hours, falling into a dreamless sleep, and awoke to find his sheets tangled around his legs, his mouth filled with cotton, and his stomach growling. He briefly contemplated going to the Caf, but dismissed it quickly when his tired muscles protested. _Right. Ration bars it is._

He'd gotten new ration bars about a week and a half ago, but hadn't eaten any because he'd found friends. Now that he had a (however fleeting) reason to go back to his ration bars, he'd had to open a new box. He wolfed down two bars without tasting them and then drifted back into a half sleep, slipping into a comfortable dream of large smiles and small hands; of soft curves and hard muscle; of white teeth and mahogany skin.

When he awoke, it was slowly, with an uncomfortable hardness between his legs. He shifted and stretched sleepily, then began to stroke himself absentmindedly with long, slow, firm strokes.

After a few fruitless minutes, Joker had to admit that his normal masturbation fare was failing him. The images of perfectly-proportioned asari paraded in front of his closed eyes, displaying breasts and asses that were objectively perfect, but also frustratingly unsatisfying. His mind began to wander, flitting through the new happy memories he'd made earlier that week, when suddenly, Joker heard Shepard's voice in his ear.

"You can really fly, Joker," she said, in the same awed tone that she had on the ship. When Shepard's face appeared in his mind, he gasped quietly, momentarily shocked by how much better his hand felt on his cock. He shook his head and tried to refocus on the pretty asari, but couldn't shake the thought of Shepard.

He gave a resigned groan and slowed his hand, purposing that if he were going to admit his attraction to Shepard had progressed this far, he was determined to fully enjoy it, thoroughly damning himself.

She said it again - "You can really fly, Joker" - but this time she was kneeling between his open legs in the cockpit of the _Iwo Jima_ and teasing one finger up the zipper of his crotch. She stroked the bulge in his pants and grinned coquettishly at him. "You seem a little tense. Maybe I can help you with that."

 _Yes, please_ , he thought, ashe widened his legs and leaned against the headboard of his bed. He cupped his balls in one hand, massaging them and pulling gently, using the other hand to stroke slowly but firmly on his cock (which had grown significantly harder in the past few moments). His Shepard licked her full lips teasingly, and her smaller - but no less strong - hand alternated between pumping and tugging gently at his balls.

Sweat began to gather on his brow, and his abdominal muscles roiled and twisted and clenched as he sped (rocketed, really) closer to orgasm. When he imagined her lowering her mouth to his cock and tonguing around the head, Joker could _almost_ feel the firm pressure of her mouth on him. He let out a soft groan as he pictured her head bobbing on his cock, his hand resting weightily on the back of her head. That thought of Shepard on her knees with his cock in her mouth undid him and he came, imagining her throat tightening around his cock as she swallowed.

He came harder than he had in a long time.

He stroked himself slowly, eking out the last bits of pleasure, shamelessly wishing it was Shepard's hand he felt instead of his own. _It's not like it's ever going to happen. No harm in thinking about it._

So he thought about it, thought about for the few moments that he laid on his bed, thought about it _even more_ during his shower, and even for a bit afterwards.

He pulled a clean shirt over his head and wiped at his hair with a towel, leaving it tousled and damp. When he rubbed at his cheek, his scruff scratched irritatingly against his hand. He decided to forgo a shave anyway, figuring there'd be no one to see his newly clean-shaven face.

Joker was laying on his bed and surfing the extranet when he heard the four rapid knocks at his door. He sat bolt upright, knocking his bag off his bed and onto the floor.

 _Ow._ His joints protested the jerky movements in a scream of pain, but he couldn't have helped it. He'd been at the GTA for 5, almost 6 years now, and he could count on one hand the number of times that someone had knocked on his door without prior notice.

"Yeah, hold on," he called out, exasperated. He gave his room a quick once-over - _meh, clean enough_ \- and then went to open the door. His heart leapt into his throat, and he felt the increasingly-familiar stirrings in his low abdomen.

It was Shepard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was suprisingly hard to write. Any criticism (and other comments, too!) is more than welcome. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, peptoipso is a godsend. Best beta ever.

* * *

She stood in front of his door, wondering whether to knock. The decision to just show up at his door had been an impulsive one. Now that there was time to think over the consequences, she was beginning to lose her nerve. _You might as well. You're already here._ She reached out and gave the door four rapid knocks before she could talk herself out of it. _He's probably not even here._ As if to answer her, a loud crash resounded from inside the door, followed by a string of muttered curses.

"Yeah, hold on!" called a muffled, exasperated voice through the door. _Shit, he sounds pissed._ Shepard briefly contemplated how long it'd take her to sprint down the hallway and turn the corner, and whether she could do it before he saw her. _Probably not._ She sighed. At just that moment, the color of the holo-lock changed from red to bright green with a slight hum, and then his door slid open.

Joker was standing there, hand rubbing the back of his neck, facial expression suggesting that hosting a visitor was an ordeal only slightly more preferable than, say, french-kissing a vorcha, or sharing bunk space with a flatulent krogan. The expression on his face froze when he saw who was standing in his doorstep.

"Hey," she said, before he could say anything, or even really react to her presence.

A brief thrill of terror raced down Joker's spine, and for a crazy moment he thought that Shepard had somehow become aware of the less-than-innocent fantasies he'd been having about her for the past hour. He dismissed that thought almost as quickly as it had hit him. _Don't be ridiculous. It's just a really_ really _fucked-up coincidence._

Shepard's face had grown increasingly more agitated and embarrassed during the silent exchange that Joker had been having with himself, and he realized with a jolt that he was still gaping at her. He opened his mouth to speak at the same moment that she did, but she, being Shepard, beat him to it.

"Yeah, um, I'm sorry to bother you. It's not important. I can come back later." She shook her head. "Or actually I'll just see you in class tomorrow. Or whenever -"

"No! No wait really, it's okay. I was just surprised." He ran his hands through the hair on the back of his head in a sheepish gesture that Shepard found incredibly endearing. "I - uh- I don't really get a lot of visitors."

She hesitated. "It's nothing big. I just - I don't know. I spoke to everyone else who was on the ship with me. It just didn't feel completely over until I talked to you, too." She felt stupid as she said it, and then added, "It's not important. I didn't mean to disturb you if you were busy -"

_Oh yeah. I was busy._ "No, really, I wasn't doing anything that couldn't wait. Do you - do you want to come in?"

Shepard broke into a hesitant smile then, and Joker couldn't help but mimic her expression. He stepped back to give room enough for her to enter, but she brushed against him as she passed. His voice caught in his throat and he glanced at Shepard to see if she had noticed.

He didn't think she had. She was standing in the middle of his room, craning her neck to see all the posters on his wall. Joker folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against his door. "So what do you think? Does it pass inspection?"

"Hmm, very nice, very nice," she said, tapping a finger against her chin. "Although I guess I figured you'd have more posters of pretty asari."

Joker laughed, and pointed his finger at the ceiling above his bed. When Shepard saw what he was pointing at, she tried to look disapproving, but couldn't keep the laugh from bubbling up from her chest. "Figures." she said, as she scoffed and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

She stepped from under the poster-size asari lingerie ad and walked over to the ship collection that adorned his bookshelves. Joker suddenly found himself a little self-conscious about all the model ships he had prominently on display, afraid that the carefully painted and painstakingly decorated ships would seem childish when seen through someone else's eyes. His fears magnified when a smile creeped across her face as she pointed towards a particular ship.

"This one, it's a human design, yeah? Couple decades old." She laughed. "I think the only people who use it anymore at all are the old die-hards at Cerberus."

His shoulders sagged in relief. "Yeah. The Enterprise 460-X. It was my favorite when I was a kid. Found out the turians and asari had way better ships after we made contact, but, well, you know Cerberus. They probably _still_ think human ship design was the pinnacle of ship engineering." He couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Ah come on, Cerberus isn't all bad. A bit focused on humanity, but can you blame 'em? It's not like anyone else is." She adjusted the hem of her shirt. "I applied there, actually. To the Cerberus Academy."

"Yeah, me too. Their flight programme is amazing. Almost as great as the GTA's, and with like, a quarter of the funding."

Shepard nodded. "Well, Cerberus is still a pretty new group. Council's been around for centuries, plenty of time to accumulate disgusting amounts of money."

She pursed her lips, thinking about whether to divulge this next bit of information. _Ah, hell, why not?_ "I was thinking pretty seriously about Cerberus, actually. Probably would have gone if not for the GTA." Joker perked up a bit at that, and began listening even more intently. Shepard leaned back against his table and rested her palms against the tabletop.

"I grew up on the Citadel. Not a lot of human kids around, and so I thought it might be . . . nice to go to school with a bunch of human kids my age."

"Yeah, the Citadel doesn't sound like a fun place to be a kid."

Shepard snorted. "Yeah, especially a human kid. The only other humans on the Citadel were a bunch of stuffy politicians."

Joker nodded. "So what happened? Why aren't you the top ranked biotic/combat specialist at Cerberus?"

Shepard shrugged. "Not completely sure. I went out for a visit, but the people there. . . I don't know. They didn't seem to see me as a person. More like a . . . a project. Just a bunch of stats and test scores."

"What, and the GTA doesn't?"

Shepard gave a laugh of agreement and scratched her head lazily. "Yeah, I don't know. It just didn't . . . feel right." Her face twisted in deep thought as she tried to pinpoint what exactly had turned her off of Cerberus, but she was again unable to name the feeling. She blinked her eyes rapidly as she shook herself out of her moment of reflection. "Alright, your turn."

"Uh, my turn?"

"Yes, exactly. Tell me a story." Her eyes darted around the room for something that seemed like it had history. When they caught his ship collection, she turned back to him triumphantly. "Tell me why you have nice penmanship."

Joker balked at the question that was seemingly from left field and looked at Shepard quizzically.

She grinned. "You hand-labeled all your ships. Neatest handwriting I've ever seen. Especially since nobody actually writes with pens anymore. And you said you grew up on Arcturus, right? Who writes on Arcturus?"

Joker opened his mouth to answer before realizing that there wasn't exactly a simple answer. And he _really_ didn't want to see the look on Shepard's face when he told her how bad the Vrolik's had been.

"Yeah, that one's . . . that one's a long story."

"Oh, good," Shepard said brightly, as she plopped herself down on his bed, leaned against the headboard and crossed her legs at the ankle. "I have time." She grinned cheekily up at him, as if she were daring him to say something about how positively enticing she looked sprawled across his bed.

He looked at her a bit longer than necessary, his gaze travelling down past her neck slightly before snapping back up to her eyes, and Shepard found herself reacting to his gaze. The room suddenly felt a full 10 degrees warmer, and Shepard was fighting to keep a flush from spreading through her cheeks. _This is getting ridiculous, girl. He's only *looking* at you, for Pete's sake._

Joker finally moved and deliberately sat down in the chair next to his bed.

"Sure, I can tell a story. Good thing you're on the bed, though, since you might fall asleep."

_Not likely,_ thought Shepard.

Joker cleared his throat. "So, a long, long, time ago, in a star system far away –"

He was interrupted by Shepard rearing her arm back to throw a pillow at him.

"Alright, alright! Fine. I was born on Earth. In the USA. Lived there until I was about 5. Anyway, I didn't learn to walk properly. Gravity was too high, and my bones kept breaking."

Shepard's eyes widened. "I didn't know it was that bad."

Joker went on as if she hadn't said anything. "That's what my mom tells me, anyway. I don't remember much before we moved to Arcturus. I got surgery - barely remember that - and I could walk better on Arcturus since it's so low gravity. That's mostly when I start remembering things."

"So you go back to Arcturus on holidays?"

"Naw, I think my mom hated it there, too military for her. She's a free spirit and all that." He waved his hand dismissively. "Moved my sister back to Earth a few months after I left for the GTA."

"The gravity doesn't bother you when you go visit home?"

"Nope. The GTA is actually higher gravity than Earth is."

Shepard took a second to digest that information and then came back with another question. "So your Vrolik's got better? I mean, it seems like you walk fine now."

"Yeah, the surgery helped the most."

"What kind of surgery was it?" she asked, then realized that it might have been too personal of a question for their newly-minted friendship.

Joker paused. He'd already said a lot more than he had expected to, but Shepard didn't seem bothered. And it didn't seem like she was pitying him either, which he supposed he was more worried about. The dirty details of his surgery and his recovery was more than anyone needed to know, but he didn't see a way out of giving some answer to a direct question.

"They inserted metal rods in my arms and legs to help support the bones. It was most important when I was still learning to walk. They - the rods, I mean - make my bones able to support my weight, and now I can walk properly." He frowned slightly, and if Shepard wasn't watching for it, she wouldn't have seen it. "Mostly properly, anyway."

Shepard nodded slowly. "So wait, what does this have to do with your handwriting?"

"Hey! I'm baring my soul, here." He pressed a hand against his chest, an expression of false sincerity twisting the features of his face.

She laughed. "Alright, fine. I'll be patient."

"And I was getting there! I told you it was a long story. Anyway, while I was still back on Earth, I couldn't do any running around. Or even many outside activities, really. So I did lots of indoor stuff. Reading, of course, arts 'n crafts, piano -

"You play the piano?"

"Not anymore. Gave it up when I didn't have to spend all my time inside."

"Aww. A shame, really. Us girls like it when guys play the piano."

"Oh. Well. Guess I should have kept up with it, then." He met her eyes from across the bed. _Yes. Yes, this is definitely and unequivocally flirting_. He felt giddy, almost, then foolish about how giddy he felt. She seemed to like flirting with him, but it was hard to remind himself not to read too much into it. It certainly didn't mean that she was actually interested in anything more than that. And it was stupid, really, to be so head over heels for the first woman who showed the slightest bit of interest in him.

Her voice snapped him back to reality. "Well, at least you kept up with the handwriting."

He laughed. "I mostly use it when I write something I'd prefer people not see. Since, you know, not many people can read it anymore." He paused thoughtfully. "Speaking of which, why can you?"

Shepard acknowledged his question with a nod. "We did a lot of handwriting back on Mindoir. We were a farming colony, kind of poor. Most people didn't have fancy Omni-tools and datapads."

"I thought you grew up on the Citadel?"

"Yeah, after I was about six." Her eyes clouded over slightly. "Long story." Her tone was clipped, so Joker didn't press. When he looked back at Shepard, she was focusing on the small bin of books he had tucked away in the corner next to his desk.

"Are those . . . are those _books_?" Shepard asked incredulously.

"Yup. Old Earth-style. Real dead trees and everything."

Shepard snickered. "Whoa. I haven't seen much of those since back on Mindoir, either." She hopped off the bed and moved to pull out the bin and look through the books.

"Don't mind if you do. Please, help yourself."

She looked up at him through sheepish eyes and yanked her hand back from the bin's cover. "Got a bit carried away there. Do you mind?"

His voice softened as he tried to show he was just teasing. "Nope, not at all. Especially since you've handled books before."

He sank down next to her on the floor, and she pulled the crate over towards them. When she readjusted, her knee grazed his, and she didn't move it away. Joker swore that he could feel the heat emanating from her body even through his jeans.

Shepard pulled the lid off the bin and barely gave the books inside a cursory glance before she broke into a wide smile. "Oh wow, old-Earth sci-fi!" She carefully picked up an old yellowed copy of Frank Herbert's _Dune. "_ I think my dad had this exact edition back on Mindoir. It was his favorite. I've only read digital versions. It's been forever since I held a real book. " Her voice trailed off at the end again, so Joker changed the subject quickly.

"Borrow it, if you like," he blurted out.

Shepard's head snapped up. "Really? You don't mind?"

Joker thought about it. He never lent his books to anyone (although, to be fair, wasn't a position that Joker found himself in very often, or even at all). After thinking about it, he found that he wouldn't mind Shepard reading something of his at all.

Shepard sensed his brief hesitation, because she backtracked quickly. "Never mind. Don't worry about it," she said, at the exact same time that he said "Sure."

She eyed him cautiously, and he said "Yeah, please, borrow it. Just be careful with the pages. Some of them might tear."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Please, it's not everyday you find someone who wants to read out-of-print Old Earth sci-fi." He pressed the book into her hand.

She traced a finger up the spine, deep in thought for a moment. Finally, she spoke. "Did you start that Krios paper yet?"

Joker grimaced. "Dammit. I knew my weekend had been going just a little _too_ well."

"Thought as much. So how about this - you start on that paper, and I'll read your book here, so that you can make sure my clumsy biotic hands don't destroy your precious books." She grinned. "I've finished already, so can ask me all your research questions. I'm probably an expert on Hamlet after all the extra reading I had to do."

"Why'd you have to do any extra reading? 9 hours makes for a very, _very_ thorough performance."

"Well, i might have been a little, ah, distracted during class." Shepard smiled inwardly. Joker really was quite cute when he was flustered - the pink of his ears traveling down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt, spreading (she assumed) across his nicely broad chest -

"Right. Well. If I have any questions, I'll - uh - direct them to you, then."

Shepard hopped back onto his bed - again with his bed! - and Joker settled back at his desk with his datapad and began to type. They went on that way for the better part of two hours, and when Joker finally looked up, he saw that she was about a quarter of the way through the book. A wry half-smile appeared on his face as he opened his mouth to speak.

"You know, I didn't really take you for a sci-fi gal."

She looked up from the book, her glazed eyes refocusing on the contours of his face as she processed his words. "Oh? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing." He moved as if to resume typing, but Shepard got up and sat on the corner of the bed nearest the desk, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at Joker over his datapad. "No, you have to answer now. What kind of gal did you take me for?"

"You? I'd have bet you read . . . romances. Good, old-fashioned damsel-in-distress romances."

The horrified look on Shepard's face made him reckless. "Yep. Bet you're saving your first kiss for a long-haired shirtless cowboy on horseback."

Shepard scoffed. "Wrong on all counts. First kiss was when I was 11. With Garrus."

At that, Joker felt his heart sink a bit. He realized that he had fallen prey to the hopeful, naive optimism of someone romantically uninvolved and rather lonely - that is, to assume that someone he was interested in was similarly romantically uninvolved and rather lonely.

Faced with an increasingly growing amount of evidence to the contrary, Joker flitted his memory briefly over the few interactions he'd seen between Shepard and Garrus, searching for anything that seemed even vaguely romantic in nature. He couldn't remember any, but he also acknowledged that he was hardly the galaxy's premier expert on successful relationships.

Joker's head snapped back towards Shepard with an unreadable look on his face. "Garrus. Huh. Well, was it good?"

"No." Shepard laughed. "Turians . . . don't kiss. Not like we do, anyway."

"Turians have a very . . . toothy kiss, I'd imagine."

Shepard nodded and winced slightly. (Joker, for his part, was rather relieved that the memory of kissing Garrus seemed to be, quite literally, a painful one.)

"Well, any since then?" Joker asked.

"A few since then, yeah," she replied nonchalantly. "What about you? What was your first kiss like?"

"Wet."Joker said, quietly appreciating that Shepard seemed to take it as a given that he'd been kissed. Most people assumed he was a blushing untouched virgin (which, while _technically_ accurate, didn't ease the sting of having it just _assumed_ about him). And so Joker appreciated that Shepard simply _assumed_ he'd been kissed before. He didn't really like recounting the details of that kiss (there had been only one, after all), but there was no doubt that it was, indeed, a kiss.

"Oh come on, that's no answer." Shepard's voice was exasperated.

Joker thought for a moment. "Wet . . . and hot." Also technically true. Her mouth had been _incredibly_ warm.

Shepard rolled her eyes. "You're such a romantic, Joker," the sarcasm bleeding out from her voice like an improperly tourniquet-ed arm.

"Oh, what, so now you like romance?"

"I never disliked romance. Romance is nice, love is nice. Romance novels are awful. Just really . . . formulaic and infuriating. Especially the old Earth ones." She steeled her jaw. "I don't need to be saved," she said, a bit more forcefully than she had intended.

"Hm. I don't know how I feel about romance." Joker shrugged. "Haven't thought about it too much, to be honest." _Liar. Liarliarliarliar -_

"Really? Why not?"

He shrugged again. "I mostly focused on flying. Even back when I was a kid on Arcturus. All I really wanted was to fly something."

A slow smile spread across Shepard's face. "Hence your ship collection."

"Hence my ship collection," Joker confirmed.

There was a comfortable silence as both students reflected on the paths their lives had taken, on seeing their hopes and dreams and goals come into fruition because of hard work and dedication. Joker was especially pensive, realizing (not for the first time), that he was currently doing the things he'd dreamed of doing for the better part of his life. "I'm lucky to be able to fly so soon," he muttered, so softly that Shepard almost didn't hear.

Shepard furrowed her brow slightly. "You're not lucky."

Joker's head snapped up in surprise.

"You're not _lucky._ It's not a "happy accident" that you got chosen to be our pilot. It's all you. You worked hard. And you deserve it, just as much as the rest of us." _Maybe more_ , she thought to herself.

She reached out and squeezed his shoulder, then turned her hand slightly and laid a palm on his cheek, brushing a thumb against his scruff.

_Oh fuck, of all the days to have not shaved._ Joker valiantly resisted the temptation to nuzzle her hand, but couldn't stop himself from leaning slightly into the touch. The friction of his beard against her hand sent a tingle up her arm, and Shepard moved her hand slightly in order to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

She removed her hand from his cheek and stood, ordering her wayward hands to remain firmly at her sides. "Rest up. Our next mission's at the end of the week, and I need my pilot in top condition." She handed the book back to him, but Joker refused it with a raised hand.

"You can take it with you."

"Thank you." She smiled warmly at him. "See you in class tomorrow, Joker." She pressed her palm against the holo-lock to open it, stepped through, then turned and waved to him as the door slid shut in front of her.

After she left, Joker headed over to his bed, pulled out his datapad, and performed a final review of his paper for Krios. _Good enough,_ he thought, then tossed the datapad onto his desk before pulling back the sheets of his bed. He sank down into them, his nose catching the scent of something warm and pleasantly musky. He inhaled deeply and hugged his pillow closer to his chest.

His bed smelled like Shepard.

* * *

**Codex Entry - Cerberus**

The Cerberus Academy gained prominence a few short years after the First Contact War. During the war, disgruntled humans formed a guerilla resistance group to fight against the seemingly overwhelming turian assault. Anti-turian sentiment was rampant among the guerillas, which often bled over into general anti-alien sentiment, given the silence of the Council to the aggressive (and unprovoked, in humanity's view) nature of the turian assault on humanity.

After the war, when most of humanity wanted peace and to repair relations with their aliens, the Cerberus guerilla group disbanded and seemed to dissolve, its members re-assimilating into society with varying degrees of success. After a few years of humanity's peaceful, but tense, relations with the other members of Council space, Cerberus resurfaced with a vengeance, with seemingly bottomless funding from an illusive benefactor. (Cerberus's pro-humanity viewpoint was often confused (often by members of Cerberus themselves) with anti-alien sentiment.)

In the wake of protests from humanity about the lack of training for non-Council races at the GTA, Cerberus appeared on the scene with its own training programmes intended only for human students. The training programmes at the Cerberus Academy are currently ranked among the best in the galaxy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> **Thank all of you so much for continuing to read, and to my beta, peptoipso, who puts up with way too much of my shit.**
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> **Councilor Names**
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> **The turian councilor is Sparatus.**
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> **The asari councilor is Tevos.**
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> **The salarian councilor is Valern.**  
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Tali was sick.

There were two days and seven hours before the next scheduled mission, and their resident tech specialist seemed to be suffering the quarian equivalent of a rather nauseating and utterly debilitating flu.

Through no fault of her own, of course. Tali had been quarian for a number of years; she knew better than just about anyone how to avoid getting sick. But due to a series of increasingly bizarre events during a larger-than-usual CombatSim, Tali's suit had ruptured, and she was currently nursing back to health no less than _seven_ unique infections due to non-sterile opening of her suit.

Bizarre, as was previously mentioned. But still, it was a non-ignorable bizarrity (Tali was out of commission for the next week _at least)_ , and one that Anderson was currently attempting to explain to the Council.

A cough echoed through the chamber, reverberating between the perfectly shaped and sloped walls until it faded away into nothing. Artificial sunlight streamed in from the window behind the council, flickering just in and out of Anderson's line of vision. Anderson tugged at the collar around his neck but did not loosen his tie, even though the room was much, _much_ warmer than it usually was.

It was, altogether, the most uncomfortable debriefing he'd ever had with the Council.

Finally, a voice broke through the quiet. "So. . . you have called a meeting . . . .to tell us that . . . she is . . . sick?" Councilor Sparatus's voice was openly disbelieving.

Anderson valiantly resisted the urge to rub his temples. "That is correct."

Quiet, again. _Why all the damned quiet?_

"Yes. Well. . . I have to wonder about the dedication of a Spectre candidate who would allow a case of ' _the sniffles_ ' to get in the way of her training," Sparatus said silkily, even making air quotes around "the sniffles" – a gesture entirely too human for comfort.

Here, Anderson did rub his temples. _A case of the sniffles, my ass._ He didn't know if quarians could get the sniffles (did they even have noses?), but Tali was _bedridden_. It wasn't even her fault, it was that damned –

Anderson interrupted his own train of thought before the anger began to show on his face. "Well, it's considerably more debilitating than 'the sniffles,'" Anderson replied.

Sparatus could not hide the excited quiver in his mandibles, and Anderson knew that this was exactly the response he had been hoping for. "Ah. Then perhaps it is time to reconsider whether this Tali'Zorah nar Rayya has the . . . fortitude . . . for Spectre Training. How can she expect to survive the harsh realities of Spectredom if she cannot protect herself against even the most mundane of quarian illnesses?"

It was just the opening that Anderson had been waiting for, and he snatched at it eagerly. "Talon scratch from her turian classmate," he blurted out. _Keep it cool, Anderson. Don't jump the gun._ He cleared his throat and tried again.

"Tali'Zorah's current state of medical distress is due to a talon scratch inflicted by a turian classmate. Her immune system was especially compromised because of quarian unfamiliarity with turian bacteria. "

A different sort of silence swept through the chamber, and Anderson was vaguely pleased at the turn his political machinations had taken. The turian councilor had pressed his mandibles flat against his cheeks in an expression that Anderson had learned to recognize as embarrassed disgust, and rightfully so. The very idea of _ripping through someone's clothing with one's talons_ was deeply embarrassing, reinforcing a stigma of savagery that turians had been trying to shake for decades, if not centuries, ever since encountering fleshier and altogether less armored species. _At best_ it showed carelessness and sloppiness.

Councilor Tevos spoke, gracefully diffusing the tension. "The Council recognizes that Tali'Zorah's predicament is not one of her own doing. It will not jeopardize her Spectre candidacy. What do you propose we do for the upcoming Spectre mission, Commander Anderson? "

Convinced that he wouldn't be hearing any more snide comments from Councilor Sparatus, Anderson decided to forge forward with his proposal. He didn't know whether to be proud or disgusted with himself. Twenty years ago, he would've prided himself on not being particularly adept at political maneuverings, and now here he was manipulating the Council.

_Heh. Manipulating the Council._

He decided on proud.

"I propose that we continue with the mission as planned."

"Without Tali'Zorah?"

"For this mission, yes." Anderson took a breath. "I think it would be beneficial to allow someone else to go in her stead."

Tevos's calm, collected mask slipped momentarily, and in its place, Anderson saw quiet surprise briefly flit across her face.

"And who might you suggest to replace her?" she asked, mask firmly back in place.

"Another human protégé, no doubt," Sparatus muttered.

"Urdnot Wrex."

Councilor Valern made a facial expression that looked suspiciously like a raised eyebrow, even though salarians have no eyebrows. Maybe it didn't look like a raised eyebrow at all. _Maybe,_ Anderson thought, _you've just gotten better at reading alien faces._ (Twenty years ago, he wouldn't have been any good at that, either.) "Beneficial . . . for whom?" Valern asked.

"For everyone involved. It will be interesting to see how well the Spectre candidates are able to keep control of a krogan fighting bloodlust. And it would be a good exercise for our krogan in controlling that bloodlust."

Anderson was proud, even as the vile words tumbled out of his mouth. It had taken him the better part of an hour to figure out how to spin that, to make the Council think it would be a great idea to open up their funding and their missions to non-Spectre candidates.

It was also a bit of a stretch, and he felt a twinge of guilt for playing into nasty stereotypes about krogan in order to get what he wanted from the Council. Wrex might be a bit more violent than his squadmates and certainly possessed a healthy amount of krogan bloodlust, but he'd never be a hindrance to a mission. Wrex was oddly efficient, actually. While he might "relish the kill," he never seemed to take any pleasure in prolonged pain and torture, and was never needlessly cruel. That was more than Anderson could say for some of his students from more "civilized" species, and it seemed unfair that Wrex would be the one to carry the dead weight of Anderson's political machinations.

But, if he played his cards right, Anderson might be able to ensure that future missions would also have a place for non-Spectre candidates. _And all for the small price of the dignity of a single krogan._

Twenty years ago, Anderson wouldn't have even considered it.

"Varying the makeup of the missions might good practice all around. Stops our Spectres from getting too comfortable, important qualities for special agents. Also means the students go on missions more often; get more done."

Tevos caressed her chin with a single dainty gloved hand. "Hmm. I do recognize the possible benefit to the Council of your proposition. Although, there's certainly a benefit to your GTA students as well."

"Certainly," Anderson agreed readily. "It's a mutually beneficial arrangement. Real-world experience is invaluable to our GTA students, not just the Spectre candidates."

Tevos nodded, and made a few notes on the screen on the podium in front of her.

Valern blinked, and Anderson knew that her stubborn silence doubled as acquiescence.

Sparatus harrumphed, and no one paid him any attention whatsoever.

"This is acceptable, Professor Anderson," said Councilor Tevos. "The Council will provisionally allow the training of appropriate non-Spectre candidates on Spectre-training missions. The Council reserves the right to categorically deny this privilege to a student for any reason."

"Now that that matter is settled . . . the next task we have for the Spectre candidates." Her voice trailed off. ". . . It is a sensitive one."

Anderson said nothing, and Tevos cleared her throat to fill the silence.

"The GTA's archaeology department is becoming concerned about a possible missing student of theirs. Liara T'soni. Her solitary field research project in a Prothean ruin on the planet Feros was approved two years ago. It was the first of it's kind," she finished proudly.

"She's been on a deserted planet for two years?" Anderson said, trying and failing to hide the intense disapproval in his voice.

Tevos waved her hand dismissively. "Human timescales are much less forgiving that those of the asari. It is not uncommon for the asari equivalent of the Ph.D. to take 50 years to complete."

_No wonder they practically rule the galaxy_ , Anderson thought. _50 years is half a human lifetime._

"T'soni was generally very good about remaining in communication with her cohort at the GTA. About three months ago, her normally daily updates became notably spottier, and we were sure that she was on the cusp of a major breakthrough." Tevos paused for effect.

"T'soni stopped updating completely two weeks ago. The department hasn't heard from her since, and she hasn't responded to any of their communications."

Tevos shot a glance at Valern, who nodded, only once. "The Council would like for your students to investigate the disappearance of Liara T'soni. I do not need to stress the need for discretion, no matter what is found on Feros."

Her carefully chosen words held little hope that T'soni would be found alive. Anderson nodded gravely. "Understood, Councilor."

The unspoken understanding thickened the air considerably, and lent an even heavier weightiness to the tenor of the room. For about the 30th time that day, Anderson found himself positively eager to exit the chamber.

"Your students should prepare to leave at 0600 hours in two days time. We do not anticipate a combat-heavy mission, but they should be prepared for anything."

"Understood, Councilor," Anderson repeated.

"Thank you, Commander Anderson. This meeting is adjourned."

After leaving the Council chamber, Anderson headed for the Citadel docking bay and caught the next shuttle to the GTA. It was a short trip, only 3 standard hours, and the ship wasn't even half-full. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the chair that had not been designed for humans, the base of his neck knocking against the poorly-placed headrest. After a few moments of trying, he gave up on the idea of sleep, opened his eyes blearily and exhaled deeply.

Twenty years was a long time.

* * *

Joker was not in a pleasant mood. He knew he'd be flying again tomorrow, and that knowledge was almost enough to overpower his current melancholy. Almost.

Almost, but not quite. If he were honest with himself, he'd have to admit that his current bad mood was almost entirely his fault. (But Joker didn't really feel like being honest with himself at that moment, instead preferring to fuel his sense of righteous indignation with Shepard.)

His two tormentors, Marcus and Grant, had shown up again to bother him about something or other. (This time, they'd waited until he was exiting the lunchroom, so at least he hadn't had to skip any meals.) Shepard had valiantly risen to his defense, chasing them off with a bout of derisive laughter and a toss of her head.

She had turned to him with a lopsided smile on her face, preparing to make a joke to diffuse the tension, but stopped abruptly when she saw the look on his face. Joker only had an idea of what his own face looked like, but he was sure that he had looked nothing short of _infuriated._

He'd entered the nearby elevator before she could say anything, and jabbed the "Door Close" button with such force that, for a moment, he thought he might be nursing a fractured thumb back to health along with his injured pride.

Joker exhaled sharply at the memory of her confused face from between the elevator doors.

To be fair, she hadn't really done anything _wrong_. Just reminded him that he was broken and she was not, that she was strong and he was not, that she was respected by their fellow classmates, and he was not. The more he thought about it, the more laughable his crush became. He briefly tried to imagine the two of them together in a way that didn't bring to mind Old Earth novels about hunchbacks in church towers.

It did not work.

He let out a short bark of a sigh and tried to focus on more pleasant thoughts. When that also did not work, he grabbed his swim gear from his bottom drawer and headed for the pool.

* * *

It took Shepard a few moments to realize that she'd found him. She had almost given up searching the station, figuring there'd be time to talk during their mission during flight time (although, considering the face he'd given her, she didn't even know if she was welcome in the cockpit anymore). Right when she'd turned back towards the pool exit, she caught a glimpse of him.

_Yep. That's him. I'd recognize those arms anywhere._

Before she knew it, Shepard found herself walking across the pool deck towards Joker, and parked herself at the end of his lane. When he finished his lap, she was there, sitting on her haunches, "I figured I might find you here."

Joker looked up at the sound of her voice, and she gave a small wave. He pulled off his goggles with one hand, blinking away a few stray droplets of chlorinated water, and rested his arms against the edge of the pool.

"Why?" Joker asked.

Shepard wasn't sure if he meant "Why'd you think you'd find me here?" or "Why were you looking for me?", but she decided to answer the former. "I think you said something once about swimming being one of the exercises you actually liked."

"Yeah," he said. "I like to swim, but heavier exercise is good for bone density and stuff. So I have to lift weights."

"So that's where it comes from. . . " Shepard said absentmindedly.

"Where what comes from?" he asked.

"Oh, um . . . your - " Shepard gestured at her upper body, moving her hands vaguely over her chest and biceps.

Joker smirked and raised an eyebrow at her.. "My . . .?"

She shook her head, flustered. "Look, I came down here to apologize."

Joker hoisted himself out of the water carefully and sat down at the edge of the pool, taking care to make sure his legs were still distorted by the water.

"Apologize for what? I should be apologizing. I was a brat."

"No, no, I know you can handle yourself. And I shouldn't butt into your business just because I happen to be around."

"Why do you care?" Joker asked, genuinely curious.

"Cause they were assholes. God, I don't even really understand how you put up with them every d-"

"No, I mean, why do you care about apologizing to me?"

She paused and looked at him through the corners of her eyes. "Well . . . We're friends, aren't we?" While they both knew it to be true, it was the first time either of them had spoken the word to each other.

Joker paused to think. "Yeah. Yeah, we're friends." It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it was more than what he had an hour ago. And more than what he'd expected to have a month ago.

She smiled at him, a genuine smile with lots of teeth. "Good. Friends is good." After another moment, she pushed herself up began to head for the pool exit. "Don't stay up too late. I need my pilot in top form."

"No promises."

Shepard rolled her eyes and left the pool. "0500 hours."

* * *

Much as he liked Tali, Garrus had to admit that fever (even fever in a skintight bodysuit) wasn't the most attractive look for a quarian. Even in the best situations, quarian bodysuits looked only slightly more comfortable than human scuba gear. Being sick in one sounded about as fun as being trapped between a - what was the human phrase? - between a rock and a hard place. _And twice as wet,_ his mind supplied unhelpfully.

Garrus was shaken out of his musings by a particularly nasty bout of coughing from Tali. The med bay had been woefully unprepared to deal with a quarian who was ill to this magnitude, and had been arranging for Tali to be sent back to the flotilla for treatment. Tali had reassured them that she knew how best to treat herself, and that shipping her back to the flotilla would really have been more trouble than it was worth. As a compromise, every day around noon, a nurse from the medbay came by to "check in" on her – that is, to stand around ineffectually while Tali laid in bed, occasionally fiddling with the temperature and humidity controls in the room before shuffling away guiltily to a lunch break.

Tali coughed again, and another look at her had Garrus feeling guilty for even thinking about how 'unpretty' she looked at the moment. Condensation lined the inner lining of her facemask, adding an extra layer of distortion to her already opaque features. Her shoulders shivered and twitched with fevercold, and when she spoke, her voice, usually teasing and musical, was gritty and strained.

"Enjoying the view, Vakarian?" Garrus could barely hear her voice through the muffling of the mask and her own swollen throat, but he caught the gist of it.

"A little." Garrus pulled up her desk chair and took a seat near her bed, where Tali was current sitting upright, propped up by an ungodly amount of pillows. "Are you feeling any better?"

Tali shrugged in response, and Garrus wiped the hollow under his chin where sweat was beginning to pool.

"Spirits, it's hot in here." _Almost as hot as Palaven._

Tali scoffed. "Yeah, blame it on the think it helps. I don't know why. I'm in a bodysuit, for _Gesai'terin._ I've literally got my own personal temp and humidity controls _._ "

"You should really go home, Tal."

"Can't go home," she coughed. "I'm on my pilgrimage, and I'm sick. "

That non-sequitur had Garrus reeling for a moment, but then Tali continued. "It's practically expected that we'll get really sick on our pilgrimages at least once. We're supposed to get ourselves better, and figure out how to heal without returning to one of the flotilla's hospital ships. It helps to prove that we're not going to be a drain on the flotilla's resources."

Garrus leaned back in the chair and nodded slowly. "You don't think they'd cut you a break? I mean, these are pretty rare circumstances." (At least, Garrus _hoped_ they were.)

"No, you're right, they'd understand. But. . . . well. . . . it's kind of a rite of passage. Like a turian applying his own facepaint for the first time. Or a salarian performing her first Omni-tool repair.

"Quarians get sick. The first time you're able to heal yourself. . . it just proves to everyone else - and yourself - that you're ready to be an adult."

"Do all quarians get _this_ sick?"

Tali let out a laugh that turned into a cough midway through. "No, this is a little more serious than we usually see on pilgrimage."

"Any chance you might die on us?"

She waved a hand. "Slim to none. I'm stubborn, Garrus. Not stupid. If it were something I wasn't positive I could handle, I'd call for help.

"Besides, I'm already missing one Spectre training mission. Don't have too much fun without me."

"I make no promises. What counts as 'too much' fun?"

Tali was quiet for a moment, and Garrus could swear that he could almost see her face underneath her faceplate, scrunched up in thought. "Ambushed by geth."

Garrus chuckled. _Not likely._ "Alright, I promise that if we get ambushed by a horde of geth, I'll make sure the first headshot is for you." He stood up and gave her a light punch on the upper arm, then headed for the exit.

"I'll hold you to that, Vakarian."

* * *

There was less fanfare when the four of them left for their next mission, but no less excitement. Joker and Shepard were the first to arrive at their scheduled hangar in the hangar bay. Shepard's shoulders slumped as she caught sight of their assigned ship.

"Ugh! The _Iwo Jima_ again?"

Joker looked at her quizzically. "I don't know why you're so disappointed. I'm the one who has to fly her. And she's a solid ship."

"She's old and broken."

"Yeah, well, sometimes broken things still work just fine." Joker's jaw tensed slightly, but noticeably, and Shepard saw a hard glint in his eyes flash briefly.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, you should be thanking me. I had them replace the medi-gel dispenser that you broke, so you know, feel free to get your ass kicked out there."

"I didn't break it! I just . . . punched it a little bit. Besides, Wrex would be the one to use up all our medigel. He overestimates his regenerative abilities and ends up taking a hit that actually hurts him." Her voice trailed off at the end, and she bit her lip, her misgivings about the mission beginning to show on her face.

Joker glanced at here out of the corner of his eyes. "You sound worried."

Shepard inhaled. "Maybe a little. Not as much as last time, though."

"Good. I wasn't really looking forward to explaining why we needed another medi-gel dispenser so soon."

Shepard turned sharply to look at Joker. "You were listening in on me and Garrus in the med-bay last time." It was a statement, not a question.

Joker shrugged. "Couldn't help it. I was checking in the ship's intercom and surveillance systems. I wasn't trying to spy."

He cleared his throat. "Once you get settled, you can watch the flight from the cockpit if you like. The Attican Beta is supposed to be beautiful. "

Shepard nodded.

"And don't worry so much. Just another mission."

* * *

Shepard worried anyway. There was something about Feros that made her uneasy.

For one thing, it was red. Shockingly red, from the bright crimson of the soil to the translucent orange-red of the clouds that coated the sky. Regardless of the direction she looked, the she felt trapped inside of her helmet by the overpowering sensation of red.

But more uncomfortable than the overbearing red was the unnatural _quiet._ It bothered her (and not just because life experience had rendered Shepard entirely unused to quiet).Even planets that were almost completely barren and lifeless featured some form of noise - wind blowing through the dust on the planet's surface, thunder from some distant electrical storm,

But there was nothing like that here, on quiet on Feros permeated the air like the stench of decay- hanging off her body like an oversize set of armor, weighing down her arms as though she were wading through molasses, crawling into her nose and mouth and ears until it was the loudest noise she'd ever heard.

There were buildings, machines, all signs of the presence of intelligent life, but absolutely no sound - no quiet hum of machinery, not even the creaks of old machine parts. Just still, unnatural, quiet.

_Too quiet_ , she thought, at exactly the moment that the first bullet whizzed past her ear.

In the space of two heartbeats, Garrus had drawn his sniper rifle and fired a shot in the direction of the bullet that had been meant for Shepard. The sound of metal hitting metal rang across the red desert.

"Geth!" he shouted, as three more Geth Troopers and two Rocket Troopers crawled out from under the sand and began to fire.

Garrus and Shepard dived into cover behind the Mako. Wrex, on the other hand, ran into the group of Geth Troopers, using his shotgun at close range to get rid of all enemies but the two Rocket troopers in less than fifteen seconds. Wrex began to charge into the rocket troopers, sustaining two direct hits but barely stopping to recoil from the pain. Shepard threw a Singularity at the remaining clustered geth, pausing their attack long enough for Shepard to yell instructions to Wrex.

"Wrex, get into cover! Now!" Shepard yelled. Wrex stopped his charge, slammed his back into a boulder and began to let his regenerative abilities heal him.

Garrus picked off the rest of the geth (who were still spinning around the singularity) with his sniper rifle, cleanly disposing of the final one with a headshot. He exhaled raggedly. "Guess that one's for Tali."

"What?" Shepard responded, as Wrex rejoined their group, looking no worse for the wear.

Garrus shook his head and cleared his throat. "You saw that, right? There were geth. Beyond the veil."

"Yeah, I know. We'll figure it out later. For now, everyone stay on guard. Wrex, _do_ try to not get yourself killed by geth while we're out here. Looks horrible on the mission reports."

Wrex grunted. "Well, at least we know why that archaeologist went missing."

"Yeah. It's not looking good. But I'd rather not start planning funeral services until we get some concrete evidence." She pulled up her map. "We're traveling in the Mako, heading towards this dig site here." She pointed at an area on the map about 3 kilometers away.

They made their way towards the dig site marked on the map, fighting off geth turrets, troopers, armatures and even an Geth Colossus. Finally, they approached the coordinates for the entrance into the dig site,and found a holo-locked door carved into the side of a mountain.

"On foot from here. Guns drawn. Garrus, hack the door." The door opened with a _whoosh_ a few moments later. (Longer than it would have taken Tali, but still respectable.) The cavern inside was large and spacious, and every sound made echoed noisily around the room. A light thunking sound came from further inside the room, but it was replaced by a rustling sound - like the sound of clothing scraping across the floor.

_There's someone alive here_ , Shepard thought with a thrill.

"Uh, hello? Can somebody help me please?" A gentle, feminine voice called out from the cavern. The voice continued, but more quietly. "Don't be ridiculous. There's no one there. No one's ever there." The thunking noise from earlier continued.

Shepard motioned for Wrex and Garrus to remain silent, and then she peered around the corner to find a young asari trapped inside what looked like a containment cell. She was lying on the floor of the containment cell, idly throwing a shoe against the mass effect field.

Shepard moved in view of the containment cell. " My name is Shepard, and these are my squadmates, Garrus Vakarian and Urdnot Wrex. We're from the GTA. Are you Liara T'Soni?"

"By the goddess! I'm saved!" She scrambled to her feet and jammed her foot into the shoe she'd been using for entertainment.

Shepard motioned for Garrus and Wrex to join her, and Garrus headed towards the control panel to disable the field around Liara.

"Wait." Shepard reached out to block Garrus from moving forward, thrusting her gun against his chest.

"What? Why are you waiting!? Let me out of here, I'm trapped, I need help!"

Shepard looked at the surroundings. Everything was neatly organized, as neatly as one could expect an archaeological dig site in an underground bunker to be. There were no signs of a struggle at all.

Shepard looked suspiciously at Liara. "Yes. . . and how exactly did you get trapped in there?"

Liara's face turned a brilliant shade of azure. "I . . . I thought I saw . . . geth. So I sealed off this bunker and then ran back here. I must have accidentally tripped the power source for this security device, and now I'm stuck here, in this cell. I'm sure you must find this quite amusing.

Shepard's shoulders untensed slightly, and she shook her head. "Not at all. You did see geth. This planet is crawling with them. It's a wonder they haven't gotten in this bunker." _A little suspicious, even._

"Geth! Here? Beyond the Veil?" Liara looked shocked, but then pleased. "I must have secured this station quite well then, if it kept out geth."

Shepard acquiesced after a moment of thought. "All right. What is this, and how do we get you out of here?"

Liara straightened her back. "This field is a Prothean Security Device. It measures the biotic abilities of its occupants and provides mass effect field sufficient to contain them.

"What?" said Shepard.

Liara opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Shepard. "No, no, no, don't repeat it. I don't really care how it works. How do I get you out of here?" She glanced at the field containing Liara. "You said a mass effect field, right? Should be simple."

Shepard's hands began to glow blue, and in one swift motion, she plunged her hands into the field and experimentally began to punch a hole through the field with her biotics.

Liara's voice was alarmed. "No wait! Don't! The field will -"

There was a loud crash and Shepard was flung backwards from the barrier, landing 10 feet away with a loud _thump._ She sprang upwards in time to see Garrus training his rifle on Liara.

"What did you do?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing! Don't shoot!" Liara massaged the area where her scalp met her fringe with exasperated fingers. "By Athame, if you had just listened to what I said earlier about the Protheans, this wouldn't have -"

"Do you really think this is a good time for "I told you so's'?" Garrus lowered his gun after a nod from Shepard.

Liara exhaled sharply. "Honestly, don't you people read?"

Shepard folded her arms across her chest. "Assume we don't."

Liara exhaled and began to pace the length of the cell. "This cell was meant to contain prisoners with biotic abilities. It wouldn't be much of a cell if they could escape simply by throwing a Singularity. The control panel is over there." Liara gestured to her left. "Once you input the correct code, the field will dissipate and I will be free to leave the cell."

"So, what, I just play with the buttons?"

"No!" Liara sighed again. Shepard got the feeling that she and her squadmates were decidedly not the intellectual rescuers than Liara had been hoping for. "It's a Prothean-era puzzle lock. The input code is the particular solution to the third-order differential equation encoded by the -"

Shepard felt her eyes glazing over. Liara looked at them and sighed once again. "Yes. You play with the buttons."

"Right." Shepard poked experimentally at the control panel on the Prothean security device, and was rewarded with an electrical shock. She yanked her hand back and glared at Liara.

"Well how was I supposed to know that would happen? _I've_ only seen it done correctly." Liara tried and failed to keep the smugness out of her voice.

"Yeah . . .this is gonna take some time, so, uh, sit tight." She turned to Garrus. "Ta . . uh . . . Garrus, see if you can hack your way into this."

Liara's eyes widened. "Hackers," she whispered. "I ask Athame for help, and she sent me hackers." She rested her forehead in her hands. Liara opened her mouth as if to protest, but then thought better of it, remaining quiet as Garrus methodically worked his way past each line of defense the Prothean security device .

Garrus was a good hacker, but the technology used to program the security device trapping Liara was surprisingly – there was no other word for it – _alien._ Occasionally he caught glimpses of the underlying logic of the puzzle lock, but then it was gone. He was still plugging away at the lock when Liara spoke up again, her head still cradled in her hands.

"I don't suppose you know anything about the status of my paper?"

"Huh?" Shepard replied eloquently.

"My paper! Was it accepted?" Liara raised her head to look at Shepard.

" . . . .Excuse me?"

"My paper!" She jumped to her feet. "I submitted it to The Galactic Journal of Historical Archaeology 8 weeks ago! I've probably had a response by now! If I do not respond to the reviewers soon, perhaps they will think that i do not wish to publish with them anymore!" Her voice grew louder.

Garrus let out a muffled noise of frustration, but when he spoke, his voice was calm and focused. "Please try to remain calm. Your emotional fluctuations are distorting the signal I'm attempting to –""

"I do not have emotional fluctuations!" Liara's hands began to glow blue.

Garrus shook his head sadly. "The poor thing. She's lost it, cooped up her by herself for so long."

Shepard responded immediately. "Garrus! She's losing control of her biotics. Get her out of there, now! Before she hurts herself." She turned to Wrex. "Wrex, can you help him?"

Wrex shook his head. "Nope. Not unless you want me to blow it up." He reached eagerly for his shotgun.

"Uh no, that's okay, Wrex," Shepard said hastily.

"I'm not crazy!", Liara continued, oblivious to their discussion. "And my research is not 'pointless'," she finished weakly. "It's getting published. I just . . . need to know . . . if my paper . . . what the reviewers . . ." She swayed. "Haven't been able . . . to get in contact. . . with my research group . . ." Liara sank to the floor, and her breathing steadied.

Shepard peered through the field at Liara's immobile form. "I think she's fainted, Garrus."

Garrus let out a sigh of relief, and Shepard swore that she heard him mutter "Finally" inside his helmet.

Shepard activated her helmet intercom and paged Joker. "Joker, three - negative - _four_ for pickup at current coordinates."

There was no response. "Damnit. Wrex, we've lost radio contact. We need to get back above ground soon. I don't like being out of contact with Jo... with the _Iwo Jima_.

Wrex cocked his head at her, his arms folded across his chest. Shepard could feel his gaze, even through his helmets and hers. After a few more uncomfortable seconds, Garrus yelled "Got it!" and stepped back from the control panel.

The field surrounding Liara dissipated, and Shepard rushed in to grab her around the waist. She gave Liara a dose of medi-gel and Liara awoke, groggily.

At that very moment, a loud, earth-shaking rumble swept through the cavern, almost knocking them off their feet.

"Oh . . . oh, oh, oh, that's not good!" Liara frantically began to scramble away from Shepard's supporting arm and towards her workstation.

Shepard tightened her grip on Liara's waist. "Don't worry. Just a little earthquake. We'll be out of here in a –"

Liara broke away and sprinted towards her workstation, grabbing datapads and videologs and infochips as if her life depended on it.

"Liara!" Shepard put a pacifying tone in her voice. "Hey, we can come back and get your stuff as soon as we get in contact with our –"

Liara interrupted again. "No! That wasn't an earthquake."

She stood and gestured towards the ceiling and walls of the cavern.

"That was no earthquake, Shepard. This is a volcano."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thanks for reading!**
> 
>  
> 
> **Next Chapter:** Lemon zest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for continuing to read! This is the longest chapter so far, and, I think, my favorite chapter. I hope you like it half as much as I do.
> 
> Also, as always, a thousand thousand thanks to my beta, peptoipso, who still makes the time to read and edit my stories even though she is a big-shit grad student now.

" _That was no earthquake, Shepard. This is a volcano."_

Shepard's face was blank at first, but then her eyes widened in fear. "You're on a digsite _inside_ a volcano?" She held up a hand. "Never mind. Explain later." She gave the cavern a quick once-over, looking for a new exit - the door they entered through was now blocked by fallen debris. "Is that elevator the only way out of here?" She turned toward Liara, but she was already back to hunting around her workstation, chattering softly to herself.

"No! We have to go! T'soni! Liara! How do we get out of here!" She tugged at Liara, but Liara put up a biotic barrier around her and her workstation. She stuffed datachips and datalogs into whatever crevices she could find with one hand, keeping the barrier around her steady with the other.

 _Whoa. Her biotics are serious._ Shepard put up her own barrier and pushed through to Liara, whose face was streaked with tears.

Shepard put a hand on Liara's shoulder. "Liara. I know this is your research, and I know it's important. And I know it's heartbreaking to leave it here. But we _have_ to go. _Now._ "

Liara looked at her with watery eyes, and it took another quake rumbling ominously throughout the mountain – no, throughout the _volcano –_ before Liara snapped into action.

"The elevator. The one behind us. It is . . . the only way to the surface."

"You heard the woman. Garrus, Wrex! In that freight elevator!" Shepard grabbed Liara's hand and pulled her into the elevator. The doors closed behind them, but they remained stationary.

"How does this thing work?" Shepard yelled over her shoulder at Liara. Instead of answering, Liara ran over to the control panel and inputted a rather complicated sequence of keys. The elevator lurched, and began its ascent towards the open sky.

After rising a few hundred feet, Shepard tried the communicator again. "Shepard to Iwo Jima, I repeat, Shepard to Iwo Jima. Joker, do you read me?"

The reply was immediate, and Shepard's helmet was soon filled with the sound of Joker's relieved, but exasperated voice.

"I read you, Shepard. I _also_ need your current status, since you've been radio silent for the past twenty-seven min -"

"No time! Request immediate pickup for four souls at current coordinates."

"Uh, roger-"

"Immediate pickup, Joker! I want your ass here in five minutes." She cut off the connection and turned her attention back to the progress they were making up the elevator shaft. Something didn't feel quite right, and she turned to Wrex to voice her worries.

"Are we . . . moving . . . slower?" she asked incredulously.

As if to confirm her suspicions, a very loud _thump_ came from the roof of the elevator, which at that moment began to screech ominously to a halt.

"Shit," said Shepard. She looked up and saw a hatch on the roof of the elevator. "Alright, let's see if we can't get that hatch open ASAP. We might be climbing our way out of -"

An ear-splittingly screechy noise, the sound of metal scraping metal, filled the air, threatening to rupture their eardrums. Liara, the only one in the group not wearing a helmet, let out a shriek of pain and covered her ears. A bewildered and utterly broken look crossed her face. "That is . . . not good."

Shepard could barely believe her eyes. The ceiling of the elevator was being _pried apart_.

"Spirits," Garrus breathed quietly.

The noise stopped, and then an explosion rocked the elevator, sending it tilting dangerously to one side. Shepard tossed a pistol at Liara, who caught it nervously with clumsy hands. "Shoot if you can."

Through the smoke and debris, Shepard saw four, five, - no, _six_ \- shrouded figures jumping through the hole left by the explosion.

"Geth! Geth in the elevator!" she shouted.

Shepard, Liara and Garrus dove behind cover, shooting at the figures that were barely visible throughout the dust. Wrex pulled out his assault rifle and fired and uninterrupted round into the smoke. A bullet ricocheted off the wall of the elevator and whizzed dangerously close to Shepard's head.

"Watch your shots, people!"

A booming voice echoed throughout the elevator.

"Ah. You are still alive. No matter. We will kill you."

Wrex reeled. "He is krogan," he said, somehow managing to convey astonishment while not deviating from his monotone.

"And he's with geth." Garrus remarked pointedly.

Wrex glared at Garrus, clearly not pleased with the insinuation that his allegiances had been in question, even for a moment.

By that time, the smoke had cleared, and the only other figures standing were the krogan and two geth. Garrus and Shepard neatly disposed of the geth, but the krogan evaded them.

He was fast. Not just impossibly fast for a krogan, but _fast._ Shepard slowed him down with singularities, but his regeneration kept him from sustaining much damage. The battle raged for a few minutes, neither side gaining much ground, until Liara stood from behind her cover, eyes glowing black.

The bookish grad student was gone, and in her place stood a powerful woman with the stature and confidence of an asari matriarch. She bared her teeth, raised a hand at the krogan, and released a Warp so powerful that he was thrown off of his feet and tossed against the wall like a rag doll. He fell to the floor and lay there, apparently unable to regenerate.

"He's down! Garrus, Wrex, finish him!" The three of them fired round after round into the krogan before his body slumped over, lifeless.

Liara, for her part, had fallen too, collapsed onto the ground, apparently exhausted by her final display of biotics. A dose of medigel from Shepard brought her back to consciousness, but she was still too weak to stand.

Another ominous rumble echoed through the elevator shaft.

Shepard called to Garrus. "Can you hack your -"

"Already on it, Shep." Garrus said as he worked quickly to override the security on the control panel.

Shepard looked up the shaft through the newly formed hole in the ceiling and could barely make out the silhouette of a ship flying overhead.

 _Please let that be Joker_ , she prayed silently.

As if to answer her, the elevator began to rise again, albeit more slowly and much more noisily than before, due to the platform scraping the sides of the elevator shaft.

Once they reached the top, Wrex climbed out, then Garrus. Shepard lifted Liara out of the hole and then herself, looking wildly for the Iwo Jima. It was there, less than 100 meters away.

"There! Run!" Shepard yelled as she pointed at the ship. The volcano upon which they were standing gave the largest, longest, loudest rumble so far, and they broke into a frenzied run. Shepard fell slightly behind them; the weight of Liara's body slowing her down significantly.

The doors to the Iwo Jima opened, and Wrex jumped through. Garrus looked around wildly for Shepard and saw her straggling behind.

"In the ship, Garrus! Now!"

He hesitated for a moment, and then ran back towards the two of them.

"No, Garrus, in the fucking ship! Now!" He ignored her and grabbed Liara's legs, and the three of them set off into an uneven and uncomfortable (and faster, Shepard admitted reluctantly) run for the ship.

At that moment, lava erupted from the elevator shaft in a fiery geyser, one that threatened to overtake the three of them running haphazardly for the ship.

Shepard jumped into the air, threw a biotic shield to protect them against the lava behind them, and and unleashed a torrent of biotic energy that propelled Garrus, Liara, and herself away from the wall of lava and into the safety of the Iwo Jima.

They landed with an unceremonious thump on the floor of the decontamination chamber, and Shepard activated the intercom. "Joker, we're in. Go! Go, go, go!"

The door closed immediately and the Iwo Jima sped off. Once they were a good distance away from the volcano, Shepard exhaled deeply and laid her head against the wall of the chamber.

"Seven minutes." Joker's voice came through her intercom loud and clear. (And smug.)

"Excuse me?" she wheezed.

"You were late. I had to wait."

Shepard rolled her eyes and deactivated the intercom. Her head banged against the wall of the decontamination chamber, and she let out an exhausted sigh. "Fuck. I think I blew out my amp."

Garrus looked up at her. "I'm not surprised. You used them to propel three people through the air." He paused. "That was . . . impressive."

"Yeah, well, it would have been two, if an insubordinate team member had obeyed my orders." Her voice was clipped.

Garrus looked pointedly at Liara's prone form on the floor of the chamber, and then met Shepard's eyes over his visor. "You're welcome."

Shepard choked out a laugh despite herself. "Yeah. I'm taking her to med bay. The two of you, rest up. Garrus, I'll chew you out tomorrow. Or have them give you a medal, I haven't decided yet. "

She stood, gathered Liara and opened the door to the ship. Just as she was about to walk through the door, she turned around and used her head to gesture towards the unconscious - but still very much alive - asari in her arms. "Mission accomplished."

* * *

Liara awoke to find herself lying on a sparse cot in a very, very brightly lit medical bay.

Her feet were cold, the mattress beneath her was lumpy and uneven, and the blankets that had been haphazardly thrown over her were barely keeping her warm. She gave a mental sigh. If she were going to dream of rescue, why couldn't it at least have been a comfortable dream, one with warm beds?

She darted her eyes to the left and was surprised to find a human woman sitting there. She had fallen asleep in a chair that appeared to have been dragged in from the nearby mess hall. Her features were dark - curly black fringe - _hair,_ she corrected - cut relatively short for humans, chestnut brown skin, even armor that was the darkest shade of black allowed by the standard armor customizer.

Liara tried to call out to her, but her voice box was not cooperating. She tried to sit up, and was rewarded with a scream of pain from all of her overworked muscles. _Ah. I am not dreaming, then._

At that realization, a jolt of dread ran through Liara's body. She was only ever this sore when she overstrained her biotics -

Experimentally, she tried to produce a small mass effect field. Her head screamed in pain, and then so did she.

Her scream woke the woman seated next to her. She briefly for her gun, but then ran to Liara's side after taking in the surroundings.

"Hey. Shh. Shh." Her voice was soothing. "Don't try to do anything. I think your biotics are shot."

Liara tried to nod, but then winced.

"Don't move. Try to go back to sleep if you can."

"My feet are cold," Liara said. At least, that's what she tried to say. Instead, it came out like "Mm mhm eng dd."

"What?"

In response, Liara glanced down at her uncovered feet. Shepard followed her gaze, puzzled for a moment, and then covered Liara's feet with the blanket, even arranging them neatly over her and tucking them under the cot.

"VI, raise the temperature of this room to 28° C."

Liara closed her eyes, blissfully thankful. Working so close to the core of the volcano had increased her tolerance for heat and lowered her tolerance for cold. With the promise of warmth approaching swiftly, Liara drifted back to sleep.

When she awoke next, the woman - her name was Shepard, maybe? - was still there, typing away on her Omni-tool. Liara found she could sit up, and Shepard wordlessly handed her a warm mug. She accepted it similarly wordlessly and wrapped her hands around it, absorbing the heat.

"It'll feel even better when you drink it," Shepard said, amused.

Liara sipped at it without thinking and swallowed, and then her eyes widened.

She was _ravenous._

Liara drained the rest of the mug in one long gulp, the hot liquid burning her tongue and throat as it went down, but she was beyond caring.

"I thought you might be hungry - I don't think you've eaten in weeks." Shepard produced a box of ration bars. "These are all we've got."

Shepard had persuaded Joker to give them up. He'd brought his personal stash with him, since they were slightly more palatable than the ones stored on the _Iwo Jima_ (which Shepard suspected had expired years ago). Shepard tossed a bar onto Liara's lap.

Liara grabbed at it and tried to rip it open, but her weary fingers failed her. So Shepard did it for her – unwrapped the bar and handed it to Liara. She wolfed it down in two bites, practically inhaling it. Shepard opened another bar for her, and she inhaled that one too. They went through eight bars like that, Shepard's fingers barely able to keep up with Liara's suddenly ravenous appetite. Finally Liara seemed to tire, and laid back on the hospital bed and let out a deep sigh.

"This is not at all how I pictured my rescue mission," Liara said airily, almost as though she were unaware that she were speaking aloud.

"Oh? And what did you expect?" Although Shepard was equally amused and annoyed, she managed to keep most of the annoyance out of her tone.

T'soni's cheeks turned that deep shade of azure blue again, and she sat bolt upright in the cot. "I . . . apologize. I seem to have gotten in the habit of talking to myself while I worked, where there was never anyone around to answer me. I . . . suppose I haven't quite shaken the habit yet."

"Would you like to be left alone?" Shepard asked.

"No, it's quite alright. I think that I would enjoy company. I simply . . . I will. . . . need some time to readjust."

"Yeah, I can imagine, I guess. Feros is a pretty remote place to do your research." _And a dangerous one._ "Why were you inside a volcano anyway?"

"My research focuses on a few specific aspects of ancient Prothean civilizations. I theorized that the site on Feros was a Prothean burial ground. They are often found in volcanoes, where they are not likely to be disturbed."

Shepard stared. "Hell of a way to keep out looters, don't you think?"

Liara's lips curved into a small smile. "Perhaps."

"Well . . .are you feeling any better? Being trapped in a prison cell on a deserted planet. . ." Shepard shook her head to rid herself of the thought.

Liara nodded. "It was not a comfortable experience. I believe that after a few more weeks, my mental state would have become severely damaged."

Shepard stared. "A few _more_ weeks? How long were you in there? How long has it been since you've had something to eat or drink?"

"I . . .am not sure. I would estimate more than a week, certainly. Less than a month."

"How is that even possible?" Shepard asked incredulously. "How can you survive for weeks without food and water?"

"Well," Liara began, "I _am_ asari."

Shepard continued to stare at her, nonplussed.

"My apologies. I thought this particular feature of asari biology would have been common knowledge."

Shepard raised an eyebrow, but continued to say nothing.

"Clearly it is not," Liara added hastily.

"During periods of extreme distress, asari can enter a state of . . . hmm, I suppose your people might call it meditation, although it is a significantly less spiritual experience.

"Through this system of . . . meditation, we reroute the energy that is necessary to operate our biotics into our basic life support systems, slowing our metabolism and halting most of our bodily processes."

"When we are sedentary and in this state, as I was in that security device, there is no need for food."

Shepard nodded as she took in that information. "But you used biotics earlier - against that krogan. And against me," she added as an afterthought. "That was an impressive display of biotics back there, especially after being trapped in a prison cell for weeks without food and water."

Liara nodded. "I still had possession of my biotic abilities, but in a significantly weakened form. Had I been at my full strength, I do not believe that you would have been able to infiltrate the biotic shield I was using as a barrier."

Shepard privately disagreed, but said nothing.

"Even so, after I rerouted power back into my biotic abilities, I was no longer able to remain conscious. I awoke in dire need of food, as you have just witnessed."

Shepard tilted her head to the side. "What happened to you down there?"

Liara hesitated. "It is very difficult to explain. Perhaps I could show you?"

Shepard snapped her eyes up to meet Liara's. "Mind-meld?"

Liara nodded once, sharply.

"Are you strong enough for that?"

"I believe so. Joining does not require much energy. And I do feel much better." She paused. "And besides, I think that it would be very . . . beneficial . . . for me to share the experience with someone.

Shepard relaxed her shoulders in agreement. _She's been alone for almost two years. Of course she wants someone to relate to._ "What do you need me to do?" she asked.

"Have you joined before?"

Shepard shook her head mutely.

"Do not be afraid. Please, come stand next to me," Liara said, as she placed her hands on Shepard's clothed shoulders.

Her voice became very soft and soothing, almost hypnotic. Shepard felt the overwhelming urge to close her eyes. Her breathing slowed, and her eyes felt lidded and heavy. Her face drooped, as though she was in a very heavy sleep. Although her physical body was relaxed and sluggish, her mind was more alert than almost any other time she could remember.

" _Embrace eternity_." The words from Liara seemed to echo throughout her head, and then Shepard's mind was immediately bombarded with images.

~Liara at her workstation in the volcano, the sound of gunfire startles her and she sees a brief glimpse of . . . geth? -

~Liara blockading herself in the ruins and accidentally triggering the prison cell -

~Liara studiously reading papers on her omni-tool at the volcano digsite while sipping a cup of hot tea -

~Liara out in the field, walking across the same stretch of land she'd been searching for hours, looking for something, _anything_ -

~Liara strolling the Prothean ruins, in awe -

~Liara engaged in an awkward vid conversation with her graduate research group at the GTA -

~Liara's first public presentation about her research – she'd hyperventilated and run out of the auditorium with tears streaming down her cheeks -

~A young Liara holding hands with an asari matriarch in a bright yellow dress -

~Liara, alone, playing in the dirt in a playground near her home on Thessia -

The visions stopped abruptly. Shepard felt dizzy, and when she opened her eyes, Liara was avoiding her gaze.

"I . . . apologize."

Shepard put a hand to her head. "What happened? What did I see?"

"Memories of mine. I . . .shared more than I'd meant to. More than is appropriate. Forgive me."

Shepard reached out a hand to touch Liara's shoulder. "Not at all. I'm sorry if you're embarrassed, but I like knowing how you felt - Your memories - I feel like I understand you a little better now."

Liara gave her a small smile. "I suppose . . . I am glad you feel that way. In a way, I am glad to share. My profession. . . at times it can be . . . incredibly lonely."

"I can only imagine. I think a human archaeologist in your position might have gone insane." Shepard thought "One of your memories . . . there was a woman, in the yellow dress - "

"She is my mother," Liara said, but ventured nothing else. Shepard did not push, and the two shared a comfortable silence. Shepard broke it. "I'm sorry that we couldn't save your research."

Liara's eyes closed painfully. "Is it all gone?"

"All that's left is what you took with you," Shepard said gently.

Liara leaned back to her cot. "I suppose that will have to be enough." She turned on her side, and after a moment, turned her back to Shepard. "I think. . . .I think I will rest some more. The Joining has exhausted me more than I thought it would."

Shepard squeezed her shoulder and allowed Liara's flimsy excuse to stand. "I'll leave these here in case you get hungry," she said, gesturing towards the box of ration bars, "and I'll wake you once we get to the GTA."

"Thank you," Liara said.

As she left, Shepard got the feeling that Liara wouldn't be doing much eating or sleeping.

Perhaps simply mourning.

* * *

Cockpits were lonely.

This was a generally accepted fact about spaceflight, and, for most pilots, one of the drawbacks of the job. The promise of long hours spent in an isolated, often poorly-lit room only slightly larger than the ship's bathroom was not appealing to most pilots – it was what they put up with in exchange for the thrill of experiencing spaceflight firsthand.

For Joker, however, it was one of the biggest perks. Well, not the tiny, cramped-ness of it all – he certainly wouldn't complain if the average cockpit doubled (or even tripled) in size. And the lighting situation wasn't _ideal_ , but it certainly wasn't worth complaining too hard about. But Joker found that he preferred ships to people; preferred navigational readings to small talk; preferred the quiet hum of the drive core to conversation.

Or at least, _usually_ he did. Recently, loneliness had been more of a foe than a familiar (albeit slightly sadistic) friend. He was halfway to pulling up the comm system on the ship's navigational interface and pinging Shepard's Omni-tool before he realized what he was doing. His hands froze in midair. It bothered him in some ways, how easy and natural it was becoming to seek out company. Joker didn't know whether he liked it or not. His hand hovered over the "Send" key as he decided whether or not to send his message.

_Oh, fuck it. She's probably busy anyway._

: 'You in the neighborhood?'

Not too busy, apparently. Her response was immediate.

: 'Joker, this ship is less than a kilometer in diameter. I'm _always i_ n the neighborhood.'

: 'Well, you busy?'

: 'I wish. Writing mission reports for Anderson and the Council.

03.46.30::A. Shepard: 'Should you be typing while you're flying?'

03.46. 'Meh. Worst case scenario, I crash us into an asteroid, no big.'

No answer.

Just when Joker was getting slightly paranoid about being ignored, the doors to the cockpit whooshed open. Shepard strode through and plopped down in the empty co-pilot's chair as if she belonged there.

"Hey! How did you know I was gonna invite you up?"

"I didn't. I'm just not overly fond of crash-landing on asteroids."

Joker rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, was a _joke_. I could fly this ship in my sleep, and you know it."

"And _I_ have a standing invitation to visit you in the cockpit whenever I want, and _you_ know it."

Joker didn't know what to say to that, so instead he snorted.

Shepard stretched in the copilot's chair. "Well, if that wasn't the most ungrateful rescue operation I've ever been a part of -"

"Shep, it's the _only_ rescue operation you've ever been a part of."

 _Technically not true_ , Shepard thought. _Although it is nice to be the rescue-er this time._

She shook her head. "Even so. You'd think she'd be a little happier to be found."

"Well, can you really blame her? I mean, she spends a month trapped in solitary on a deserted planet, and then gets 'saved' by some rinky-dink rescue team -"

"Rinky-dink rescue team?" Shepard said incredulously.

Joker nodded sagely. "One that is only saved from complete ineptitude by an impossibly badass pilot."

Shepard snorted. "Whatever, Joker." She took a breath. "That was a _weird_ mission," she said on the exhale.

"Yeah, geth beyond the veil? Crazy."

At first, Shepard nodded slowly and thoughtfully, but then shook her head firmly. "No, not just that. _Everything_ about this mission was off." She brought a knee up to her chest and tucked it under her chin. "Maybe you had to be there."

That stung a bit. "Well, I was there. I'm actually currently flying you away from 'there,' so by logic, I must have been there."

"Huh? No! I meant, well, yes, you were there, of course, but –"

"Yeah I know what you meant." There was an odd tone in his voice, but Shepard couldn't quite place it. "So what's bothering you besides the geth?"

"Just . . . nothing about this mission makes any sense at all."

He frowned slightly. "Spell it out for me, Shep."

Shepard thought for a moment, and then held up one finger. "Geth. Geth crawling all over this planet beyond the veil, but conspicuously not touching the only thing of any interest."

"What, the digsite in the volcano? Yeah, I'm actually with the geth on that one. I, uh, tend to _avoid_ active volcanoes. And anyway, I thought they couldn't get in the digsite, Liara said she sealed the bunker –"

Shepard interrupted. "They're _geth_. _AI_. You think they were held up for _weeks_ by a security lock an organic jerry-rigged in half a minute? They probably hack into harder defense programs just to tie their little geth shoes."

Joker frowned in thought as Shepard continued. "That Prothean burial site in the volcano was the only thing of any interest for miles on this shithole of a planet. And the geth weren't touching it."

She held up another finger. "A GTA student who is the expert on Protheans just _happens_ to get herself caught in an antiquated Prothean prison?"

Joker shot a look at Shepard. "I thought T'soni told you how she got caught in the -"

"Yeah, I don't think Liara's setting us up or lying to us or anything. Especially after that mind meld she did with me – I think she told me more than she wanted to. But that's not all."

A third finger. "You said you were still getting readings from my suit."

"Yeah, blood pressure, heart rate, stuff like that."

"But no communications."

"Nope. When I tried, all I got was static."

"Yeah, same. Well I thought that was weird, so I checked up on it. Suit readings travel by radiowaves since they're really only designed to be used over short distances, but vidfeeds, audio communications? Both based on FTL tech."

Joker shrugged. "So?"

"So – any _natural_ phenomena – say an electrical storm or something – should have disrupted both. The fact that only FTL comm was affected makes me think it was an intentional block."

Joker deepened his frown and furrowed his brow.

"So that was weird, but at the time I chalked it up to . . . I don't know, some weird ancient Prothean tech selectively blocking communication in and out. But then . . . then!"

A fourth finger. " _Then,_ we got caught in a faulty elevator at the _exact_ same time that a previously-dormant volcano begins to erupt –"

Five fingers. " – and get ambushed by two geth traveling with a _krogan warlord_?"

Joker leaned back against his decidedly uncomfortable leather headrest."...You think it was a setup."

Shepard nodded. "I can't prove it. But that would have been ridiculously impractical for a CombatSim, let alone a routine find-and-rescue mission on some bunk planet hundreds of light years from the Veil."

Joker didn't respond to that, and in all honesty, Shepard couldn't blame him. It was a pretty scary notion – the idea that there might be an unknown force in the universe plotting against them. She looked out the large pilot's window, but all she could really see was the inky blackness of space. Space was wide and cold and sterile, and in that moment she felt very small and insignificant and vulnerable. She hugged her knees to her chest and leaned back against the co-pilot's chair.

Finally, Joker spoke. "Are you going to tell the Council?"

She shook her head. "I don't know what _to_ tell them. It's all suspicion right now. I don't have any evidence."

"What would be good evidence?"

Shepard shrugged. "I don't know. Proof they were all working together? Proof that this whole thing was orchestrated? Proof that this wasn't just some string of horrible coincidences?" She shrugged again. "I can't think of anything that would be sufficient proof." She glanced over at Joker. "But it was nice to talk to someone about it."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Now I'll be freaked out and paranoid right next to you."

She laughed quietly. "Yeah, but you don't mind, right?"

"Nah. I don't mind," Joker said, and was surprised at how much he truly meant it.

* * *

One of the hardest things about these Spectre candidacy missions, Shepard thought, was readjusting to "normal" life once the mission was over. She was primarily a student, after all, even if she did routinely spend her weekends running high-risk errands for the Council and rescuing trapped archaeologists from surprise geth invasions inside booby-trapped volcanoes.

And perhaps it was a bit too early to call it "routine," but she was proud. But as soon as her feet touched ground at the GTA, her priorities had to reshift – back to exams, back to papers, back to the scholarly pursuits that were now becoming more and more insignificant as she got a taste of "real life." "

Shepard was beginning to _hate_ Galactic Literature and Poetry.

While they'd been gone, the class had moved from _Hamlet_ to salarian courtship poetry, which had no decipherable rhyming scheme and was decidedly unromantic, especially for _courtship_ poetry. Krios had declared that they were still responsible for all the work they'd missed, and would simply have to "catch up" with the rest of the class. After putting it off until the last possible second, Shepard had dragged Joker with her to an empty classroom for a round of studying.

They'd been there for an hour, and Shepard was starting to get restless. She shot a look at Joker sitting directly across the table from her, brow furrowed as he typed furiously at his keyboard.

"Hm. Something tells me you're not reading up on salarian courtship poetry."

He grunted, but gave no further response.

"Okay, now I'm curious. What are you doing?"

He stopped typing and met her eyes across the table. "You know how you thought there was something weird about the mission?"

Shepard nodded, if a little reluctantly. The fears that she'd expressed to him earlier seemed incredibly over-exaggerated now that they were safely aboard the brightly-lit and densely populated GTA. "Yeah, I remember _mentioning_ it, but I don't think –"

"I think I might have found you some proof."

Now it was her turn to furrow her brow. He waved her over to the seat next to him, but instead she stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder for a better look. It was the closest his face had ever been to hers. Shepard tried not to notice the faint smell of his aftershave and the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, but she failed. Flustered, she tried to refocus the data on his Omni-tool.

There was an image there – a large, orange-red circle against a black background, with faint white dots in the distance. Shepard recognized it as a geothermal map taken from a ship's thermal imaging system, but still didn't see what had Joker so excited.

"What exactly am I looking at?" she asked.

"Oh, sorry. This is footage from the _Iwo Jima_ 's thermal imaging system as we left Feros. The orange circle is Feros, but that's not what's interesting. See that?" He pointed to a faint flicker of red a few inches away from Feros.

"The flicker?"

Joker sighed theatrically. "It's an _important_ flicker. "It shows that there's something there that wants to look like it's _not_ there."

She shook her head. "I'm not following, Joker."

"I think that flicker is a ship trying to avoid being detected. They're shielding, but they've still got to dispense all the heat that's being generated _somehow,_ or everyone in the ship will die of heat shock _._ So they mix it with slightly cooler air and let it off in small spurts that only show up as a flicker on thermal imaging systems. It's a piloting technique."

Shepard's eyes widened. "How sure are you?"

"Sure enough - I mean, the reason it's so effective is because it can't be proof positive of anything. It looks like it could just be noise on the screen." He pressed his lips together. "If I'd been watching for it at the time, there's more I could've done to confirm it."

"I don't get it. What else could you have done?"

Joker paused for a moment as he thought up a suitable analogy. "Right now, we're kind of looking at the security camera footage. Let's say . . . we think our store's been robbed, and we're looking at the security camera footage to see if we can get a look at our thief."

Shepard nodded.

"All that shows up on the camera is a blur. It could be someone shielding. Or, it could just be a mistake in the camera footage. We can't tell since it's just a recording.

"But if I'd been sitting there operating the security camera, I could've turned on thermal viewing, increased frame rate, done a whole lot more to focus on the blip and gotten a better look at whatever was there." He gestured back at the recording on the omni-tool.

"Same thing here." He pointed at the flicker on his screen. "It _could_ just be noise. But with everything else that happened down there . . . .what are the odds that it's just noise on the screen?

"I think you should show it to Anderson at the full debrief. It's pretty convincing when you put it next to all the other weird shit you saw."

Shepard nodded slowly. "They teach that in Flight Training?"

"Nah. Something I picked up in FlightSim."

She peered at the screen again. "God, it's barely there. If I wasn't looking for it, I wouldn't have seen it."

"Yeah, same here. If it's what I think it is, then that ship has a pretty good pilot."

(Shepard's eyebrows raised so high that they threatened to disappear into her hairline. Joker calling someone "a pretty good pilot" meant that they were probably _fantastic._ )

"Wait, you were looking for it, too? Even before you knew it was here? Why?"

He shrugged. "Well, I wasn't looking for this specifically. I just wanted to see if I could find some proof you were looking for. I was hoping for a ship name, maybe a -"

"You believed me?"

He looked at her, confused.

"When I told you how I felt about the mission . . . you thought there was something to it?"

"Of course." He said it as if it were a foregone conclusion – _of course_ he trusted Shepard's analysis of events. She'd been beginning to doubt herself, but Joker had trusted her judgment, even when _she_ hadn't. He spoke with such certainty and surety and sheer confidence in her that she could have kissed him.

So she did.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Shepard closed the small gap between their faces and pressed her lips against his. Joker's breath caught in his throat, and his heart leapt and hammered in his chest like an agitated elcor rampaging through a china shop.

After what seemed like an eternity (but was probably only a few seconds), he felt her tongue probe against his upper lip and he returned tentatively with some tongue of his own. It was only when Shepard let out a quiet, breathy moan into his mouth that Joker snapped back to his senses - his dreams had never been quite _that_ vivid. He broke the kiss abruptly, and looked at Shepard, eyes full of doubt and mistrust.

"What are you doing?"

Shepard opened her mouth to answer, but found herself at a loss for words. "I. . . I . . ."

Joker pushed her away as he stood and angrily wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Is this some sick joke? Did someone put you up to this?"

"What? No! No, of course not. Why would anyone do that?" She stood too, and reached out a hand for him, but he swatted it away.

"I don't know. Ask them. They've done it before."

Shepard paused, stunned. "Joker . . .Why would _I_ do that to you?" She didn't wait for him to tell her that she was no different. "People have been really shitty to you, huh?"

Joker's eyes flashed at that. "I don't want your fucking pity, and I don't need kisses from people who think they're doing me a favor! Keep your fucking pity kisses!"

She gaped in horror. "They're not pity kisses! Joker! Joker, wait!"

She placed a hand on his chest, pushed him gently against the wall, and looked him squarely in the eye. "They weren't pity kisses, Joker. At all." She lowered her eyes and bit her bottom lip, and despite his best efforts not to, Joker noticed (not for the first time) how kissable her lips were. They were full and wet and slick, and pride be damned, Joker would have kissed her again, kissed her until her face was flushed, her lips swollen –

"I kissed you . . . I kissed you because I really wanted to. Because you believed me about the last mission. Because I needed to know if your lips were are soft as they looked. But mostly . . . mostly because I really, _really_ like you, Joker, and I was getting really tired of _not_ kissing you."

"You'd been thinking about how soft my lips were?"

The tiniest hint of red colored her cheeks as she nodded. "I just. . . I've really wanted to kiss you, Joker. For a long time now." She folded her arms around her waist and looked away. "I guess I had been hoping you might have wanted me to."

Joker remained outwardly silent, but his mind was racing, scarcely daring to believe, afraid that speaking might ruin the spell, or the dream, or whatever it was that was causing Shepard to say all of the things he'd been dying to hear her say for months now.

She let out a short sigh, taking his silence as rejection. She took a few steps back from him. "I'm sorry, Joker. Really sorry. I didn't mean to - Yeah, that was – do me a favor and don't mention that to any –"

"No! I – I wanted you to." He said it quickly, almost as if it hurt him to admit. Maybe it did.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. "I _have_ wanted to kiss you, Shep. For ages now."

She unfolded her arms, and the beginnings of a smile began to peek out from the corners of her mouth. "Well . . . I'd really like to do it again, if you'd let me."

"No bullshit?" He glanced to the side, hating how naked and exposed and vulnerable he felt in that moment.

She moved closer and placed a hand on his cheek, gently pushing his face until it was in line with her own and his eyes locked with hers. "No bullshit, Joker. Never from me." She closed her eyes briefly and gave her head a gentle shake. "And what crappy people you must have known, that they'd bullshit you that way."

Joker was still for the better part of a minute, only moving to rest a pair of shaky hands lightly on her waist - so lightly that Shepard could have been convinced they weren't there. He didn't move any further, and the tension in his face and question in his eyes gave Shepard the distinct impression that he was waiting for something.

 _He's afraid to bend over and kiss me_ , Shepard realized.

Shepard knew that he'd been hurt before, but not that he'd been hurt this badly or this deeply. Even though she knew that she couldn't erase or heal that hurt, she would make _damn_ sure that she did better. She stepped a bit closer to him, and Joker inhaled sharply, but quietly. The anticipation was delicious and terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

She stood on tiptoe, and once again pressed her lips to his. "Very, very soft," she murmured, with her mouth still pressed against his lips.

This time, when she deepened the kiss, _he_ moaned in _her_ mouth, and she smiled against his lips. His hands became more steady and heavy on her waist, and he pulled her closer until her front was flush with his.

Heat and desire flooded through her head and neck and torso, creating a burn that would only be fully sated by his lips on her skin. But she resisted the urge to tilt her neck into his mouth, instead kissing him slowly, softly, gently, afraid the intensity of her desire might cause him to leave.

Joker, for his part, was still half-convinced that he was trapped inside a horribly cruel dream – the kind that he woke up from panting in bed with his sheets twisted around his legs and his heart racing; the kind that left him painfully aware that he was alone and that his room was empty. And so Joker was determined to memorize this seemingly perfect moment down to every last detail – Shepard's shifting lips against his, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her hair against the palm of his hands, her racing heartbeat against his chest, her hands appreciatively running over his upper arms – the million little details that his mind would never be able to create even in his best dreams – the details that let him know that this was _real_ and it was _here_ and it was _now_ and it was no dream.

 _I'm kissing Shepard_ , he thought. _I'm kissing Shepard, and it's wonderful._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thank you all so much for continuing to read! As always, a thousand million thanks to peptoipso, who continues to be a most wonderful beta. I am forever proud that she considers me a friend.**
> 
> **And just as a reminder . . .**
> 
> **The asari councilor is Tevos.**
> 
> **The turian councilor is Sparatus.**
> 
> **The salarian councilor is Valern.**  
> 

Councilor Sparatus was many things. He was churlish, ornery, and proud - but he was not an idiot. And damn if he didn't hate being treated like one, even if only for a moment.

The three of them - Sparatus, Valern and Tevos - had retired to the Councilors' chambers after a rather puzzling debrief with the leader of their team of Spectre candidates. Their team had retrieved Liara T'Soni - and alive, at that - but returned with reports of attacking geth hordes in Council space. Shepard had called for a second debrief with the Council, where she presented a possible explanation with only the barest shimmer of evidence.

Altogether, it was not very convincing at all. The theory was far-fetched. The "evidence" was flimsy, at best. Sparatus had been perhaps more vocal in his disbelief than the other Councilors, but the end result remained the same. The council had elected to take no action regarding Shepard's concerns, and aside from a murmured "Be careful" from Tevos, nothing had changed. They'd presented her with her next mission: Investigating the reason behind the loss of contact and supposed disappearance of a research team on the planet Chasca in the Matano system. Shepard had exited the room awkwardly, and the three councillors retired to Councilor's chambers.

As soon as they entered the Councilor's chambers, Tevos rounded on Sparatus with a glare. "By the goddess, Sparatus, why must you be so . . . so . . . _antagonistic_ -"

Sparatus took a surprised intake of breath. "You can't honestly expect me to _believe_ her -"

"I _expect_ that regardless of what you may privately think, when you speak for the Council, you become the very image of professionalism and civility." She paused. "It is a little . . . far-fetched, I'll admit."

Sparatus seized the opening Tevos had left him. "Exactly! I mean, honestly, what did she expect us to think? With her geth and conspiracy theories and - "

"She probably thought she was doing the smart thing by raising her concerns -"

"She wasted our time!" Sparatus cut his hand dismissively through the air in front of his face. He didn't appreciate being spoken to as though he were a spoilt child, and especially not for the likes of a human barely old enough to put on her own facepaint.

"Leave him be, Tevos. This isn't about the debrief and we all know it." Valern spoke quietly.

Sparatus whirled around to face Valern. "And what do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice petulant.

"Nothing more than what I said, of course." Valern was unperturbed. "Quite honestly, Councilor, we all know that you are unhappy with the inclusion of Shepard in these training sessions, but you would do well to curb your animosity towards her during public appearances. It is . . . unseemly."

Sparatus scoffed. "I don't _hate_ Shepard," he said incredulously.

"By the nine, Sparatus, then why must you make these debriefs all the more uncomfortable?! And all because she is outperforming your precious turian protégés." Tevos scoffed, rested an exasperated hand on her head and began to massage her fringe.

Sparatus responded crisply. "Wrong. On both counts."

"To begin with, I do not _hate_ Shepard. I merely . . . dislike her, to the extent that I think about her at all." This was mostly true, simply because Shepard wasn't _important_ enough for hate. Hate was an emotion best reserved for instances of consequence - war, desertion, surrender - those sorts of things. Certainly not puffed-up human upstarts who fancied themselves Spectres.

"And it isn't because she's human." This was also mostly true. It wasn't _just_ because Shepard was human that he disliked her - he disliked her for a variety of other reasons. Her humanity was simply an "added bonus."

The room was quiet, and so he continued. "These were simple tasks - fetch these writings, rescue a (most-likely dead) asari, report back to us once the mission is complete. "

Valern scoffed. "You can't possibly blame Shepard for there being geth on the planet surface?"

"Or for bringing Ms. T'Soni back alive?" Tevos's voice took on a hard edge.

He huffed impertinently. "Of course not. I'm not an idiot. Finding T'Soni alive was most fortunate." _Even if only to avoid the media fallout._ He could just see the headlines now - 'Promising Young Archaeologist Found Dead on Council Watch.' "And the rumors of geth are . . . .puzzling. Distressing."

"What's more distressing is that we did not know about it beforehand." Valern's tone brooked no nonsense.

Tevos nodded sharply. "Agreed. Geth skirmishes on the outskirts of Council space are almost to be expected, and are taken care of swiftly enough. But an incursion in the Knossos system? Where did they come from? How many of them are there? How did they amass so quickly without our knowledge?" She stood and walked over to the window made of inches-thick glass, pensively gazing at the traffic passing beneath them. "The implications are . . . troubling. "

Sparatus raised a placatory hand. "Let's not jump to conclusions. It could be nothing. Send a team to confirm the existence of geth in the Knossos system. Have them locate the geth base in that area and destroy it."

"Shall we send Shepard?" Valern had a dry sense of humor.

"No." Sparatus apparently did not appreciate that sense of humor. "Send a real team. A _professional_ one."

"Oh, that's not fair, Sparatus. She's in training! Of course there'll be a few bumps along the way. I think she's proving to be more than adequate. She is young, yes. Inexperienced, yes, but not overly so. She'll make a good Spectre, most likely.

"She's smug." This, Sparatus felt, was not an over-exaggeration at all. He found Shepard tiresome and ordinary and self-important, yes. But more than any of that, it was her smugness that bothered him. She was smug and self-superior and much too _proud_ for someone who had barely even begun their training. He had sensed Shepard's smugness the first time he saw her GTA record - he could practically taste it through his datapad.

"If you expect me to fawn over her the way everyone else does, well . . . prepare to be disappointed. And don't even get me started on the way she's got Anderson so clearly wrapped around her ring finger-"

"It's the middle finger, Sparatus, not the ring," Tevos interrupted. "And none of us expect fawning. But I think we'd appreciate cordiality." She folded her arms across her chest.

Sparatus gave a noncommittal glance to the side and said nothing.

"I think you're just forgetting how much like her you were when you were her age." Tevos tapped her temple knowingly and smiled slightly. "But I remember, Octavian."

Sparatus was appalled.

* * *

Shepard exited the holographic telecommunications room visibly shaken. _That . . . . did not go well._

She shook the chill out of her shoulders as she remembered the events of a few moments ago.

"This is a very interesting set of data," Councilor Sparatus had said, in a tone of voice that suggested he did not find it very interesting at all. "However, the Council has a policy of not making decisions based on non-evidenced based" - he fished through the air for the correct word - " _hunches._ "

Shepard had felt her face grow hot.

"What he means, Shepard, is that even if you were absolutely correct about this - " Tevos gestured vaguely at the data on the screen - ' I don't believe there's any course of action the Council could take that might assuage your very reasonable concerns. However, if you find that the danger of this possible threat is a greater risk than you are comfortable with, we certainly understand if you wish to voluntarily terminated your Spectre candidacy -"

Up until that point, Shepard hadn't fully realized how much she'd really wanted it - how much the Spectre training had become a part of her, how much ownership she'd taken of the missions, and how closely to her heart she held the training. Her throat had closed over her words and so she simply shook her head vigorously, unable to voice how much she valued her shot at becoming a Spectre.

Anderson came to the rescue, interrupting Tevos's suggestion with a coolness and calmness that Shepard herself did not feel. "I don't believe that's necessary at all, Councilor Tevos. That's not a desirable outcome. For anyone here." He ignored the subtle twitch in Sparatus's mandibles. "I believe that Shepard's presentation was merely meant to appraise the Council of her assessment of the situation, and her progress in determining the nature of the threat. A healthy trait for any Spectre to have, really."

There had been quiet for a time, until it was interrupted by a murmured "Be careful, Shepard" from Tevos. It had read as a dismissal more than a statement of well-wishing.

Anderson caught up to her soon after she exited (fled, really) from the chamber. "It's good data, Shepard," he called after her. She paused long enough for Anderson's long stride to catch up to hers. "Maybe not good enough to convince the Council, but good enough that I want you to keep your guard up." They walked in silence for a few moments. "You feel like something's not right?" he asked her, more as a confirmation than a genuine query.

Shepard hesitated, but then nodded once, sharply. "Too much went wrong on that mission, Sir. I'd have said that intel dropped the ball, but . . . I guess it doesn't matter. I wouldn't have fully believed it until I saw it for myself."

Anderson held up a hand. "Then I believe you. To me that's more important than anything the Council says. Trust your instincts. And keep your eyes peeled. It's a dark universe out there, Shepard."

Oddly, Anderson's advice seemed to make Shepard _less_ worried, even though it seemed to suggest that the possibility of an unknown force in the universe plotting against them was a very real one. And even though both Anderson and Tevos had warned her to be careful, it seemed more genuine coming from Anderson.

"Yes, sir."

"And go eat something. You look like hell, Shepard." And then he was gone, almost as quickly as he'd come.

* * *

Joker wanted to make one thing clear - he was _not_ avoiding Shepard.

Well, not really, anyway.

He hadn't spoken to her or seen her since their kiss two nights ago, but that wasn't his fault. _Mostly._ For one thing, he was almost too tired to attend class, let alone find time to spend with Shepard. There was so much to be done before they left for their next mission – and things were just moving so _quickly._

He suspected that this was how most asari felt for their first few months at the GTA, and he did not envy them. Asari generally found the schedule at the GTA incredibly fast-paced, and many adopted a regular schedule of stims as they adjusted to the "breakneck" speed. Salarians, on the other hand, thought that the schedule at the GTA was almost laughably slow. Many species had a physical (or psychological) need for sleep, but salarians thrived on a mere _hour_ of sleep per night. Consequently, all salarians in good academic standing could petition to double (or in some extreme cases, even _triple_ ) their workload.

For humans, luckily, there was barely an adjustment at all. Certainly, students from human colonies had to adjust to the artificial gravity and artificial sunlight. And almost everyone took a few days to adjust to the time difference and to the slightly longer or shorter day, but generally, humans, along with turians, had the least amount of difficulty with the pacing of the workload at the GTA.

Except, of course, when said humans had spent 40 of the past 72 hours piloting a ship. Not that Joker was complaining - he would have given up a lot more than sleep for the chance to get a head start on actual piloting experience. It always took him a few days for the effects of the stims to completely leave him. It was just difficult to get back into the grind of classes after a taste of real life.

_Or after a taste of Shepard_ , his mind supplied unhelpfully, and then he was lost in thought, once again daydreaming about Shepard.

She'd been the one to break the kiss, leaving him slightly breathless and completely dazed. The present-day Joker grimaced slightly to think of how he must have looked - all doofy smiles and glazed eyes.

The walk back to his room was filled with a simultaneously unfamiliar, yet delicious tension. Joker couldn't quite remember feeling that way before - wanting nothing more than to pull her back into his arms and kiss her, really kiss her, kiss her the way she'd kissed him in the classroom earlier, kiss her until her knees were weak like his had been, until she was as doofy and dazed as he was.

If he were honest with himself, he'd probably admit that the experience of wanting to kiss someone wasn't new. It was the fact that Shepard seemed to want to _be_ kissed by him as much as he wanted to kiss her.

She'd walked him back to his room, her hand gently entwined with his. She'd bidden him a quiet goodnight and made to leave, but he'd stopped her from leaving with a slight pull on her hand. In a flash of impulsiveness, he'd pushed her against the door to his room and kissed her goodnight. Not the sweet kisses she'd given him earlier. No, these were hard kisses, urgent kisses, kisses that hinted at desire and need, almost as if he craved her touch.

Shepard couldn't have been more surprised. Not negatively surprised, but almost as if that were the last thing she would have expected from him. Joker didn't know how to respond to that. Until he could figure out what it meant- what it meant that she'd kissed him, and what she wanted to happen next - he'd made the decision to avoid her. _Just to clear my head for a while. Just until I figure out what to do._

Artificial daylight streamed through the gaps between the window and his curtain, and he realized with a start that he was still lying in bed. Tabling his musings on Shepard for the moment, Joker lifted himself out of bed and started to prepare for Advanced Techniques in Ship Navigation.

_Just thank fuck it's not Galactic Literature and Poetry._

Advanced Techniques in Ship Navigation was one of the largest classes Joker had, being that it was one of the few Flight classes open to students in Combat tracks. Most Combat students at the GTA also completed a concentration in a field unrelated to combat. Diplomacy was a popular choice among more politically minded (and ambitious) students. Others, especially those who envisioned themselves serving on ships in the future, thought that a concentration in Ship Navigation would make them more competitive to ship captains. They were correct - any ship captain would love a Combat student trained in Ship Navigation, and they were in especially high demand from captains of dreadnoughts and other large ships that employed a host of pilots and navigators (for all the many smaller shuttles and scouting ships).

No one would ever call Ship Navigation a "popular" concentration, however. Pilots were notoriously difficult people to work with, and a concentration in Ship Navigation practically guaranteed that students would spend many long hours in the small, cramped cockpit of a ship, playing second fiddle to a self-superior pilot with an attitude problem. It was widely considered to be a thankless task.

However, even a thankless task was an acceptable one for the more self-sacrificing students - especially those students like Kaidan. Kaidan had a minor in Ship Navigation and relished it. It was part of the reason that he'd gained a reputation for being almost unfailingly patient, and, luckily, incredibly difficult to piss off. Kaidan had a knack for dealing with and de-escalating tensions with even the most difficult of piloting students. Joker had known of Kaidan even before he'd met Shepard, and had always had a bit of begrudging respect for him - he wasn't _as_ annoying as Ship Nav minors generally were. He'd even admit, under pressure, that Kaidan was _technically_ competent, even if he was lacking the creativity and ingenuity of a "real pilot".

Kaidan was there as Joker walked into the library, sitting at a table covered in datachips and star charts. They met eyes as Joker walked in, and Kaidan waved him over.

"Studying for that Navigation exam too, huh?" Kaidan gestured towards the detritus on the table in front of him.

Joker looked down with a fair bit of surprise. In truth, he hadn't even known there was a exam today. He certainly hadn't been about to study for it, and even now that he knew about it, he wasn't planning to. Joker had stopped studying for exams a couple of years ago. Most of the "studying" he did now was in preparation for increasingly detailed and increasingly difficult programs in FlightSim.

"Yeah," he replied, untruthfully.

"Oh, good. Mind parking it here for a sec and talking shop with me?"

Joker curbed the flash of annoyance he felt at the question (although not very well). "Sure." He took the seat across from Kaidan, and, in a flash of pettiness, nudged away the stray datachips that had migrated to his side of the table. "What's up?"

"Yeah, I just had a quick question about Inertial Navigation Systems."

Joker suppressed a groan. INS was almost literally the very first topic covered in Ship Navigation, and had been drilled into the minds of any half-decent flight student.

"What, uh, what seems to be the problem?"

Kaidan passed him the datapad. Joker skimmed the problem that seemed to be giving Kaidan a hard time, and once again suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. _This is kid shit_ , he thought. Instead of voicing that decidedly unhelpful comment, he walked through the problem as quickly and directly as possible. In the process, he gave the clearest intro to the basics of INS that he could, more because he liked hearing himself talk about flying than because he gave a shit about whether Kaidan passed the exam. Kaidan listened and nodded, and asked no questions until Joker had finished his explanation.

"Ah, thanks," Kaidan said. Joker didn't see a polite way to leave and take a seat at any empty table a few metres away. Furthermore, Joker got the feeling that Kaidan knew that, and that he was being played.

He pulled out his own datapad, and the two of them sat in silence for a few long, drawn out, painfully awkward moments.

"So Joker, I hope you don't mind me asking -"

"Yeah?" Joker said, not even bothering to look up from his datapad, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't another question about INS.

"Well, . . . . what's going on between you and Shepard?"

Joker's eyes shot up and he glared at Kaidan. "What? Why? What did she say? Who told you anyth-"

"Whoa whoa whoa! Hey!" Kaidan held up his hands in the universal (among humans, at least) calm-down placatory gesture. "I didn't hear anything. From anybody. I just noticed that you two were - well, getting kind of close - and I was . . . curious. That's all."

Silence reigned, and Joker felt his face growing hot.

"I wasn't even sure anything was going on." He paused. "Until now."

Joker still said nothing.

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but you seem a little . . . tense."

_No fucking shit_ , he thought. He must have telegraphed that thought to Kaidan, because Kaidan held his hands up again, and spoke quickly.

"Look, I don't want to get into your business. But I like to think I know Shepard pretty well. And for me to get _that_ kind of reaction just by asking a question, something's clearly bothering you. If I knew what was going on, maybe I could, you know . . . help," he finished awkwardly.

Joker slumped his shoulders, then proceeded to massage his temples and forehead as if he had a headache. _Never thought I'd be sharing feelings with fuckin' Alenko, of all people._

"She kissed me. She kissed me, and I don't really understand why."

Alenko was surprised for a moment, but then recovered quickly. "For the normal reasons, I suppose," he replied, a bit more tersely than either of them were expecting.

Joker's eyes shot up and caught Kaidan's in an icy stare. He opened his mouth to respond, but Kaidan held up his hands before Joker could get a word out.

"No, you're right. That was . . wrong of me." He folded his hands in front of him, unfolded them, and then refolded them again. "Maybe you should start from the beginning."

So, for reasons that Joker couldn't quite explain, he found himself talking to Kaidan, really talking to him. He told him everything - from all the time Shepard spent with him in the cockpit to the quiet kisses they'd shared in an empty classroom. He was surprisingly easy to talk to - listening quietly but attentively, only speaking only to confirm something that was unclear.

After Joker had finished, Kaidan leaned forward and steepled his fingers in front of his face, digesting the new information. After a few moments of silence, he took a deep breath and then spoke with a clear, confident voice.

"Look, from what I know of Shepard, she's . . . she's very direct. And honest. I haven't known her to fake her feelings. Ever. If she kissed you, it's because she wanted to. If you're worried she's looking to . . to manipulate you, no," he shook his head firmly. "She wouldn't do that."

Joker listened silently, absorbing what Kaidan said.

"And you haven't talked to her? Since the um - "

Joker shook his head. "No."

Kaidan nodded. "Maybe you should. Go visit her, I mean. She's probably got a lot on her mind anyway. I heard she got out of a pretty brutal meeting with the Council. I was gonna stop by to see how she was doing, but, well." He shrugged and gave a humorless smile. "Sounds like she might want to talk to you more than me."

Joker nodded, then realized - "I don't - I don't know where her quarters are."

"You never walked her back to her quarters? Ever? Or visited her?"

Joker shook his head mutely.

Kaidan nodded, as though Joker had responded to a very different question.

"Well, I can't - All I can say is that if I were Shepard, I might think that you weren't really that interested in me. I might think that I'd crossed a line. And I might avoid talking to you until I was sure you'd decided how you felt." He shrugged. "It might be even easier than that. She might be a little tired of chasing you."

"Chasing me?" Joker asked. The words were thick and unfamiliar on his tongue.

Kaidan nodded. "She's laid all her cards on the table, it seems." Kaidan said. "You don't have to be that open if you don't want to," he added hastily, "but maybe you could give her a peek at your hand."

Joker was still, but then nodded slowly. Kaidan had been surprisingly accurate in his assessment. Once Kaidan pointed out that Joker had never actually visited Shepard's room, Joker realized that he'd been a comparatively, well, passive partner in their friendship thus far. She'd always come to him. She'd made all the advances in their "relationship", in fact. She'd initiated their friendship, she'd made the unexpected house calls . . . she'd kissed him.

He looked up to find Kaidan's face still staring openly and warmly at him, and he felt a little guilty for having been so callous a few moments earlier. Now he hoped Kaidan did well on their upcoming exam, simply because Kaidan was turning out to be a decent sort of guy.

"Yeah. Well, uh, thanks, Ale- Kaidan."

"Yeah, no problem."

"I'm gonna - I'm gonna head out now."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the help."

Joker gathered his things, and then paused as a new thought sprung unbridled into his mind. "You didn't really need help with Inertial Navigation Systems, did you?"

Kaidan smiled, almost sheepishly. "No, not so much."

"You were just . . . .curious."

"Right."

"Right." Joker met his eyes. "Thanks, Kaidan. I'll see you around."

Joker left then, leaving behind a Kaidan who was looking slightly more dejected than he had when he'd walked in.

* * *

He'd pinged her Omni-tool to no avail, checked that day's CombatSim roster, and, in a last-ditch attempt, even checked the pool (since that's where _he_ went to decompress), all the while growing more frustrated when Shepard was nowhere to be found. Maybe it didn't really matter that he hadn't tried to find Shepard before - she was so damned hard to find anyway.

He stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath. _I'm not empathetic enough for this shit,_ he thought while once more trying to think of anywhere he might find a stressed-out biotic who'd recently had an unfruitful meeting with Council bureaucracy.

The answer came to him in a flash, and he was almost a little embarrassed that he hadn't thought of it earlier. After a brief glance at a clock, he turned and headed for the only cafeteria that'd be open this time of day.

He found himself walking down the same stairwell he'd met Shepard in just a few weeks earlier, and his face warmed as he recalled the memory of Shepard witnessing his bullying at the hands of Marcus and Grant.

The door to the cafeteria opened a flight down, and Joker heard voices carrying up through the stairwell.

"Yeah, but he can't walk." The incredulous voice reverberated around the metallic walls of the stairwell, and Joker's stomach plummeted as he placed the speaker. It was Marcus. _Hell of a time for déjà vu_ , he thought. Oddly, Marcus didn't seem to be moving, just standing at the entrance to the stairwell. Joker turned and headed back up the stairs, still holding out hope that he'd be able to avoid a confrontation. The next voice he heard startled him to a halt.

"He actually walks just fine. Flies a hell of alot better than you do, too."

That was Shepard's voice, he was sure of it. _She's talking about me,_ he realized with a thrill, although he couldn't say whether it was one of excitement or dread.

"Yeah, well, when you're ready for a real man, you know where to find me."

Joker shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, anger and embarrassment rising hot in him. He felt foolish - the words rang true, and even if Shepard might deny them to his face, he really didn't want to hear what she said when she thought he wasn't around to hear.

Shepard's voice interrupted his internal monologue of self-pity.

"Marcus, you're disgusting. Grant, you're disgusting by association. I wouldn't "come looking" for you if you two were the last humans on the space stay. And I doubt I'd need to, anyway. Joker has more . . . manhood . . . than both of you."

Joker gaped. _What in hell is she doing?_

"The fuck ever, man. The crip and his freak girlfriend-"

"Call him a crip again and I'll call you an ambulance." She paused briefly, then said "You should leave now, before I actually get angry."

Joker heard kissy noises and then laughter as they left. Thankfully, their voices seemed to be headed away from him. He turned the corner in the stairwell and saw Shepard standing there, arms crossed over her chest and a look of pure disgust on her face.

She looked up to see him heading down the stairs towards her, and her face lit up when her eyes met his.

"Joker!" she said, surprised. The smile froze on her face, clearly attempting to gauge how much of the conversation he'd heard. Joker spared her the trouble, all the while feeling a small twinge of regret at having been so cross with her the last time she'd tried to help.

"Thank you," he said simply as he stood next to her.

"For what?" she asked, warily.

This gave him some pause. Even with what little romantic experience he'd garnered over the years, he was _quite_ certain that "For saying nice things about my manhood" was not at all the correct answer. He tried for something a little more vague.

"For what just happened. I heard them, and I heard you -"

"God, those assholes." The look of disgust was back on her face. "They're disgusting. Literally disgusting. I don't know why he thinks I'd be interested in him."

The unanswered question of why she was interested in _Joker_ rattled around in his head, but he ignored it.

"It was nice of you - I mean, I don't _need_ you to, but it's nice that you did -"

She held up a hand. "Please, don't thank me. I didn't do anything that requires any special gratitude from you. Just being a decent human being."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, and in the end, decided not to respond to it at all. "Well, everyone's going to think you're, ah, _familiar_ with my, uhm, manhood."

She laughed. "Heard that, did you?" She grinned mischievously. "Yeah, well, give it a month or two and it might not even be a bluff."

_Whoa._ Joker tried to ignore the subtle tightening in his pants as he considered the implications behind her words.

Then, in a flash, the mischievous smile was gone, and in its place an expression that seemed almost . . . apologetic. Maybe even embarrassed.

_Maybe Kaidan was right_ , Joker thought. _Maybe she's just as nervous as I am._ The thought felt ludicrous, but Joker didn't know what else would explain her embarrassment at that moment.

He leaned back against the railing, took her hand, and held it tightly. "I was looking for you," he said. "Hadn't seen you in a bit. Kaidan told me that the Council meeting didn't go well."

It wasn't a huge declaration, but Joker wasn't the type for huge declarations. In truth, it wasn't much of a declaration at all, but it was all Joker was brave enough to give at the moment. He hoped it would be enough.

She smiled at him then, briefly and brightly. After a moment, it faltered, and then she sighed and shook her head. "No, it didn't. I felt like . . . I felt like a stupid kid. And all I was trying to do was explain why the situation on Therum was such a . . . such a . . ."

"I believe the technical term is 'clusterfuck'."

Shepard snorted. "Yeah, that."

Joker shrugged. "Well, what do they know, huh? They stand there in front of their stupid shiny podiums and judge everyone else - I bet they haven't been out in the field in so long that they've forgotten what fear feels like. I bet they put medi-gel on paper cuts. I bet none of them even know anything about flying," he finished angrily, as if this were the worst insult he could fathom.

His impromptu defense of her and her instincts was again, not a huge declaration. But it was something.

And for right now, it was enough.

She stepped closer to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and clasped her hands behind his head, just as the door leading to the hallway in front of the cafeteria slid open. An unfamiliar turian woman walked through, and she passed her eyes over them briefly before heading down the stairs to the floor below. Shepard didn't seem to notice her, but Joker tensed.

"What's wrong?" Shepard asked, the embarrassed look from earlier returning to her face.

He shook his head to clear his mind. "Someone was watching," he said. At her look of puzzlement, he continued. "No no, it's just - Everyone's gonna know -"

"So? We're not on a ship, no chain of command." She paused, and her face fell slightly. "But I can be more discreet if you'd rather people not know." She untangled her hands from behind his neck and stepped away until there was a solid metre between the two of them. His arms and torso felt cold where her skin no longer touched his.

"What? No, no. It's not like that." She didn't move closer to him again, and looked away when he tried to meet her eyes.

"Shep, it's not like that,"he repeated. He reached out, caught her waist and pulled gently, and she let herself be drawn closer to him. "It's not like that at all."

"It's just - like that thing with Marcus. People say that kind of shit to me all the time. Maybe not to my face, but they say it. It's mostly just annoying, but if you keep -" He interrupted himself with a sigh. "It's just that you're gonna catch some shit, too. For this." He gestured at the space between them.

"This?" Shepard, repeated the gesture, confused.

"Yeah, you know -" He trailed off.

She kissed him lightly, and the words he'd been about to say stuck in his throat.

"That?"

". . . Yeah. For that."

She shrugged. "So? You're not my dirty little secret. Let them know."

This time, their kiss was long and leisurely, and if anyone passed by them again, Joker did not notice.

After a few moments, he broke the kiss, taking a deep breath to remind himself that he still had responsibilities to attend to that day. "I have to go to class, Shep."

"Which class?" she murmured into his neck.

"Ship Navigation," he answered, steadfastly ignoring the pulses the proximity of her lips to his neck sent shooting down his spine.

He felt her shrug. "Skip it."

"You're a terrible influence." He laughed. "Anyway, I don't think I can. I just saw Kaidan in the library. Apparently there's a test today."

That startled her a bit, and she pulled away to look up at his face. "Shouldn't you be more worried?"

Joker shrugged. "Why? Do you still get nervous before Combat Assessment exams?"

"Yes," she replied simply, but disentangled herself from his arms. "Try to get some rest the next couple of days. I got our next assignment from the Council. We're heading out in -" she checked her watch " -about 52 hours. Investigating the disappearance of some researchers on a planet in the Matano system."

"Yeah, because the last time we did that, it went _so_ well."

Shepard laughed, and it was the best sound he'd heard all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Reference to another wonderful RPG series here - points for finding it.**
> 
> **Also, thank you so much to everyone who's still reading, especially after my ri-fucking-diculous leave of absence. And to the couple of followers I picked up during this absence: Thank you for your vote of confidence (or maybe just your leap of faith). I hope I don't disappoint you.**


End file.
